Targeting System
by GeckoDoodlesInc
Summary: "Targeting system's off." That phrase would change the lives of two highly unorthodox Hydra assassins, and their metal-armed predecessor. (Bucky Barnes/OC siblings friendship. No good at summaries, check it out. Nothing explicit. T to be safe.)
1. Prologue

**Hello! This is my first story on this site after reading on it for well over two years now and I will admit, it's cliche in the sense that it's stuffed with (non-romantic) OC daydreams but maybe someone will enjoy it. For now, this is just a prologue thing to see if I should continue. Other chapters will be longer, but will take more time to write because, ya know, life in general. So, takes place after CA:WS and our favorite metal-armed assassin has settled in substantially. (And I _guess_ I'm ignoring some parts AoU for now, because I can. Clint's family still applies, but all the avengers new and otherwise still converge at the tower.) PoV will toggle, be warned.**

 **Rated T for safety. Nothing explicit. No pairings.**

 **Whether it's necessary or not, I own nothing but my two OCs. All credit to Marvel.**

* * *

"Targeting system's off."

One slender shadow says to a slightly larger, extending the rifle up to where he had positioned his own weapon. After adjusting the necessary components, he aimed the finely tuned machine on the turret of the building. He nodded with satisfaction and passed it back down to his masked associate.

"Try that out."

He says gruffly. She balances the massive gun and peers through the newly adjusted scope through her red goggles. She then proceeded to make a few minor tweaks to her favored rifle. There is a buzz in both their ears and with military discipline raise their hands to reply when needed.

" _Mission status."_

The mechanical voice on the other end commands. The boy replies first, using his free hand to tighten the strap across his black uniform.

"Waiting on the target."

His partner, the girl, waits in silence at the lack of immediate orders. Her brother's answer was less than military, and that was always met with punishment for both of them.

" _Proceed."_

They both let out small, silent sighs of undoubted relief, both rolling their mechanical shoulders in anticipation. They both sensed the closeness of their most recent target. They don't dare speak another word, but the silence of the abandoned cross way and gently flashing yellow stoplight was unbearable even for two highly trained HYDRA assassins. When slightly skidding footsteps begin to echo around the weed-infested sidewalks, both narrow their masked eyes, locking full attention on the street corner opposite the building they perch atop. Not long now… She counts in unison with her brother.

"One. Two. Three."

The target comes finally around the corner, and the two open fire.

* * *

Bucky knows exactly why he liked the abandoned streets and alleys of the city. There was a certain peace and familiarity to them. He liked being with Steve of course, but they were by no stretch attached at the hip. Bucky enjoyed his newly acquired freedom, and the very last thing Steve wanted to do was crowd his best friend- the former assassin fought like a cornered bear if it ever came to that. Bucky didn't do it for his quick temper, rehabilitation or trying to get over his memories… He did it for his own pleasure. He _liked_ to walk the streets at night, and so he did. A freedom HYDRA never gave him. He relished in every second of walking the long uncrowded streets for maybe miles in one night.  
-

He was in one of his more sour moods, grumpy over having constant nightmares, so he went walking. First out of the general neighborhood of he and Steve's apartment, avoiding people out of habit. When he reached the point where roads and whole clusters of brick buildings were closed off, he jumped a few chain link fences to travel one of his favorite routes. He walked this particular path quite often, not too long as to be gone all night but long enough to get a good exercise in before he Steve and Sam went on their morning runs- well Sam cursing at them for simultaneously yelling "On your left" and "On your right" as they passed him over and over. The corners of his lips tugged upward into a content smirk at the memory. He was nearing the yellow flashing light, a favorite spot to just stand and bemusedly look up at the hopelessly broken stoplight. His paced picked up. His feet scuffed lightly on the cement. Bucky never liked to walk with sound coming from his own self, it could be the easiest way to be detected on a mission. That was just one of the tiny habits he picked up after 70 years as the Winter Soldier. Another trait gained from his many years of "service" was his uncanny sense of hearing. He could hear a gun being aimed to fire long before anyone else- a few attempts on his best friend's life proved that skill to be quite useful. When he heard young voices discussing weapons, an alarm went off inside of him. Bucky stopped at the very corner of the four way street and sure enough, the loud bang of two guns thundered from the roof of one of the buildings.

* * *

"How the- How did we miss!?"

The shock in her brother's voice was ever present. They never missed… They _never_ failed a mission.

"More importantly… How did he evade?"

She said more quietly into the com device in her fitted mask.

" _Mission report! Mission report now!"_

Their commander howled into their ears.

"Mission-"

His sister began before a pause. He was expected to finish the report. And he would, for his sister's sake.

"Mission failed, sir. Returning to the extraction point."

They both looked at each other darkly, though both of their faces were obscured from view, anyone could see the shame, and even fear of what came next. They packed their gear with utmost haste and calculated precision, as if the whole thing had been rehearsed over and over. Their sprinting was aided immensely by their mechanical joins, buzzing and whirring with each stride across the rapidly decaying roofs of the old buildings. Both of them felt fear. Both with different reasons. For her, the pain of punishment- a memory wipe. For him, the distress he knew it caused his younger partner. He could stand it, forgetting everything other than her, and the prime directive to follow orders. She always remembered more than her brother, usually explaining to him what had just happened and why.

After quite a few jumps over gaps between buildings, they took turns jumping from rusty platform to rusty platform of a fire escape where a huge black van was open and full of armed guards ready to take them back to base waited. As soon as they jumped into the crowded vehicle the door was shut, blocking out the dim light of streetlamps and replacing it with darkness. Pulled to opposite sides of the van to be restrained and stripped of weapons. Both of the young teens complied with their faceless handlers as the van lurched from side to side with sharp turns. The commotion in the van stilled after they exited the city and into the country. Their masks have been removed, allowing their young faces to show.

* * *

Bucky blasted through the apartment door, clutching his right shoulder, and down the small hallway looking for Steve. Blood is soaking his brown jacket and left hand. He didn't get out of the way fast enough to avoid a massive gash to his remaining arm. A deep seated panic was beginning to set in. Though he was a hardened and strong soldier there were things that made him as fragile as a lost child. The fear of losing something _more_ to HYDRA was one of those things. And more than that, losing his best friend, the one who brought his tortured mind out of the Winter Soldier's shadow to help him _remember._ The possibility of HYDRA getting to Steve before he could was very real. They'd tried it before.

"Bucky?"

Steve walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a small dish towel.

"Steve…"

When he said Steve's name it was almost a whine. Bucky threw his arms around his friend and embraced him to the point it almost hurt. It did hurt. Bucky's arm was burning at the site of the wound. Steve pulled his friend away and held him at arm's length to look him over. Pure horror descended on his face just at the sight of the pooling blood on Bucky's jacket.

"What happened Buck? Bucky?"

His friend's pupils were dilating rapidly, he would have fallen in a heap right then and there if Steve hadn't been bracing him in a standing position.

Steve was in a rush to stop the gushing blood. Bucky was on the couch, barely clinging to his consciousness while Steve prepared Hydrogen Peroxide and two rolls of gauze from the first aid kit in the bathroom. Bucky never handled medical treatment well, and this was no exception. As soon as the kit was set beside the now crimson stained couch Bucky was trying to resist Steve's efforts to help.

"Buck, we gotta get this cleaned up."

Steve soothed in a brotherly tone, like Bucky used to do for his after he received one of his beatings in 1940s Brooklyn. The exhausted soldier sighed and leaned his head back on the armrest of the couch, and gingerly pulled his jacket away from the bloody mess. Steve couldn't help but cringe when he saw what had been inflicted. The wound went _deep._ Way beyond anything Steve knew how to care for. The hospital was out of the question. Regardless, the super soldier did his best to clean and bandage his friend as well as get him some clean clothes to change into. One long hour later, Steve was washing his friend's blood from his hands. The sun was just leaking through the window. Steve's phone buzzed from the table in the living room. He turned off the tap and quietly reached for the phone.

" _Hey man. Where are you?"_

"Rough night."

He replied, looking at Bucky who was sleeping somewhat soundly.

" _What's goin' on man?"_

Even through the phone Sam sounded worried.

"Bucky was shot."

He said darkly, now glaring at the haphazardly wrapped wound on his friend's arm.

" _Why isn't he at the hospital?"_

Sam accused, the vague revving of an engine could be heard.

"You know I can't do that Sam."

Sam sighed on the other end.

" _Then at least get someone who knows what they're doin' man."_

"I'll do my best."

" _I'm on my way."_


	2. Chapter 1

**Hello again! This chapter is longer as promised and a little bit more insightful about the duo's past affiliations with Bucky. Now, there is something I need help with. The two are going on a journey of self-discovery, so they're gonna need names. I'm drawn a blank, please PM or review for suggestions. Another matter that I cannot find a way to write without it being awkward is the way the sibling's bionics look and work so I'll just do it here for everyone's sake. For both, there are scattered panels and replaced limbs. One may have more mechanisms in one spot than the other, but they're bionics are pretty identical. Replaced hands, feet, knees, and partial in the shoulders (envision that however you like). Everything is metal plating like Bucky's. Both have a red star on their right hands. A major difference between them is that the boy has a few panels on his side from reasons that will be explained. Enjoy. Reviews appreciated.**

* * *

They stood side by side, alone in their cell, in silence. Silence was required, as was not failing missions. And yet, a lot of requirements had not been met today. Someone would be here soon to collect them, reprimand them, shove HYDRA's ideals into their heads, and then off they went to erase any sign of dysfunction. Beside her, her brother fumed, exhaling as loudly as possible. As if he could just will away the world with a minor show of aggravation. Aggravation was _not_ required. _Not_ allowed to take a place in either of their thoughts, but it does. There is anger, frustration, irritation, simple _emotion._ And it was not allowed. ' _Emotions, they cause problems,'_ The boss would say if he were the one to arrive ' _So we get rid of them.'_ She shuddered at the memory and then pushed it aside, her attention consumed by the bolted door that concealed the duo from the outside world.

"Scared, Squirt?" Her brother's voice didn't quite startle her, she couldn't _be_ startled. The fear factor came from the fact that he had even spoken at all. In response, she steeled her expression further and began to count the rivets along the door frame- all to keep from engaging the feelings that clawed at her icy exterior. However much she wanted to smile, maybe give him a good slug on the shoulder- she couldn't. Why did she feel these things? Neither of them are supposed to feel anything let alone _affection. Definitely_ not for other human beings. And he used the pet name. Damn. Those feelings had broken through the ice. She was smiling.

"Shut up." The girl giggled, not bothering to hold back the laugh that erupted from her mouth as her slightly-taller-than-you-so-I'll-rub-it-in-your-face brother pulled her into a tight side hug. _Hugging isn't required._ Years of programming weighed heavily against the physical contact as soon as he'd pulled her into the embrace.

"Where'd the smile go?" His tone alerted to another emotion: Concern. Concern was reserved for the slim chance that a mission could turn sour, and then dismissed once the issue was solved. All of this was making her thoughts spin. She shook her head against sudden, rising tears, pushing against the older's torso in an attempt to wriggle free, and perhaps stop these rapidly forming feelings. He held firm. After all, he had more mechanisms in his arms than she did. A point of jealousy between the two. Another emotion triggered by the one that held her tight in his arms as she cried into the coarse fabric of his mission suit. Like a dam that had burst, the plate of steel that was her programming was torn away. These emotions, they were confusing. So confusing, and so painful… Why did she want to keep them? Through mist eyes and quiet sobbing, she looked at her brother's face. He was smiling, a facade to uplift the tone she knew, for tears were leaving shiny rivers down his cheeks.

"How many times is this now? Thirteen?" She breathed, tucking her head under her brother's chin, closing her eyes and listening to his steady heartbeat. They were feeling many things, but never afraid.

"No idea. Hell, I don't even remember my name!" He let out a small laugh, and then proceeded to run his hand over her tangled hair. She hummed tunelessly as he rhythmically stroked her dark locks.

"Maybe we should take a vacation, clear our heads. Remember Mexico?" She nodded and swallowed another bout of sobbing, grounding herself by matching her breathing with his.

"Yeah. Great beaches. Couldn't admire 'em at the time."

"We should ditch this place. I've had enough of assassinations." A cold weight dropped in her stomach at that word, pulling her back into their present situation and out of their daydreams.

"We tried to kill-" He hushed her by squeezing only tighter. The target- the _man_ who they'd tried to kill, his identity had been kept from both of them. And only now when the veil of mind control was wearing very thin could the two gather up the pieces.

"That's why he knew we were there." She whispered, internally horrified at the realization of the events that had transpired only mere hours ago _had been their doing._ All thoughts stopped dead, then and there by the bone-chilling scrape of metal on metal, of the door opening. The siblings made haste to drop out of their embrace, and stand on equal ground to prepare what inevitably came next. His voice reached the two before he was seen, Brock Rumlow, and newly self-appointed as "Crossbones".

"How touching," He sneered as he all but threw his unwanted presence into the room. His mangled face was turned up into a smirk as he looked down at the two.

"Brother and sister hugging goodbye. Looks like little sister's been crying-" Rumlow's meaty arms struck out to grab the young teen by her collar, holding her close enough so that she could smell his rancid breath. But she dare not retaliate or break eye contact. She was strong. _They_ were strong. No claims put against the pair could deny the fact that they were formidable weapons. The fact that Hydra had experimented with using the physical capabilities of _younger_ people had proven useful in their case. But for now, they remained quiet, passive, loyal dogs, doing Hydra's good work. That is until a certain older brother had to open his mouth.

"Sir, the mission failed because of faulty equipment and the skill capacity of the target." Her jacket was released, and Crossbones' ugly face turned to glare furiously at the still-board-straight figure that was her brother.

"Oh really?" The man growled.

"Really, Sir." The teen snarled in reply, glancing briefly at the door and then to her, who also payed a sideways look at the ajar slab of metal. The signal was almost psychic, and soon a plan formed between the two faster than lightning; time to improvise.

While Rumlow was spilling his guts over how important it was to conform, focusing only on the "defecting asset", the otherwise free sibling took in the scene. Rumlow was carrying three handguns, and a rifle was strapped across his back. _Not so easily taken, better stick to the handguns._ She noted mentally. There were no extra guards. The mauled mountain of a man was alone, and she happened to know that a swift well-aimed punch or kick to Rumlow's bad left leg should do the trick for a diversion, especially if his weapons were to unexpectedly turn on him. Then there was getting out, this base was in the middle of a field disguised as a storm shelter four miles out of D.C. They'd need a car. The garage was three right turns and a left. They always left the keys in the vans. The matter of extra weapons and ammunition was solved by the mass amounts of guns held in those same armored vehicles

"So, do you understand the vitality in our plans?" Rumlow finished. The observation had taken mere seconds.

"Yes, Sir." Her brother nodded curtly, a smirk playing across his face. She shot him a look as she glanced over.

 _On three?_

* * *

 **Meanwhile in D.C.**

"You know who shot you?" Sam asked over his shoulder from the fridge, from which he drew the carton of orange juice. Bucky nodded.

"And I know where to find them." Sam pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the somewhat small dining room table and sat down with a long sigh.

"Who said anything about findin' 'em?" Sam said cautiously, quietly, as to not wake Steve who was sleeping down the hall. Bucky smirked, knowing all too well what Sam was about to say next. Something about Steve not approving. Frankly, Bucky didn't give a damn. Sure, he might end up with another bullet hole somewhere but that was the job, right?

"Steve ain't gonna like this man." Sam warned, none too concerned but still curious.

"Your point?" He countered, resting both elbows on the table. Sam sighed again in defeat. He was letting his curiosity get the better of him, this much Bucky knew for certain.

"I'm just sayin' it's dangerous." Bucky raised an eyebrow at Sam's comment. Danger he could deal with.

"I can handle it." He said flatly. Sam thought otherwise, glancing at his right shoulder. Sam made the right call and decided to drop it.

"Okay then. Tell me more about your friends." Sam leaned back in his chair and waited for Bucky to start telling the long tale of how he knew those two unnamed teenagers, but if Bucky wanted his help he'd have to keep his mind running.

"I don't have to." Sam shrugged. That was one thing that the _anyone_ close to Bucky never argued, the one thing you never challenge in the presence of James Buchanan Barnes; his free will. However much Bucky appreciated that, he often used it to his advantage, whether it be getting out of conversation or obtaining something he wanted. The Winter Soldier had taught him that much at least, to play people's strengths and weaknesses to his benefit.

"You're right. You don't." Sam looked comprehensively at the floor.

"When do we start?"

"Before Steve wakes up." Bucky rose from the table, Sam following close behind as the assassin entered his room. Bucky dug through drawers, his closet and under his bed (a considerable feat taking in that fact that his shoulder stung like the blazes) to piece together something he hadn't worn since Steve and Sam brought him here; his Kevlar mission suit. He detested the thing, like it carried a disease. In a way it did. A disease that kept him incapacitated and unaware for seventy years. He had purposely scattered the armor so he didn't have to look at it, but it was still at close range for any emergency.

"Woah, you didn't tell me they were _that_ serious." Bucky sighed and looked over at his friend, who was leaning against the wall. Sam knew the psychological effect his old gear had on him, after all Sam was somewhat of a therapist over the months and knew the inner workings of Barnes' mind- well, at least as much as Bucky _let_ him know.

"We're gonna need more than this. Look in the closet." Bucky waited with his arms crossed as Sam rooted around in the clutter of his closet, coming out with quite a few deadly-looking weapons.

"Man, this is serious." Sam remarked, looking over a large rifle.

"You have no idea."

* * *

"Faster!" She yelled from the back seat, struggling to reload a pair of handguns that she'd used to shoot out the side window. The van was lurching back and forth as he swerved wildly to evade their pursuers in whatever field their were currently ruining.

"You try driving with a bullet in your- Where are the headlights!" He'd looked everywhere for that magic button that would illuminate their path, but no such luck befell him.

"Dummy, it's right there!" His sister threw herself at the control panel up front, pushing something behind the wheel and then returning to her mad shooting. He hated it _so much_ when she knew more than him. Though he'd never let _her_ know that. She'd find out sooner or later, she always did, he admired her for that. His little sister may look like a scrawny wire-haired teenage girl but she was something lethal on the battlefront.

"Keep it straight!" In his 'admiration' he neglected to keep a steady hand on the wheel, sending her crashing into the opposite side of the van.

"Don't get snappy squirt, last time I drove one of these was in Russia." The sound of gunshots had disappeared now, and sister dearest was sliding into the front seat.

"He was with us then." She muttered, pulling the seat belt across her chest.

"Pretty sure he's the one that taught me." His brow furrowed in thought. Things like this were hazy. That was at least twenty years ago.

"Well he was one hell of a teacher if you're this bad." They both chuckled, and then fell into a comfortable silence. He looked over at her. Her gaze was locked on the dark view outside the vehicle, she was trying to distract herself from what was going on.

"Do you know if this this has autopilot?" She brought her attention back to him, leaned in to press some buttons, and sure enough the wheel was moving on its own as well as the gas and brake.

"It'll take us to the nearest highway. Unless I can get the GPS to work, we're on our own from there." She was already working at it, but another idea came to mind.

"What about-"

"No, absolutely not." The near psychic connection he shared with his sister was more a curse than a blessing half the time, and this was no exception.

"Knowing him, he's probably looking for his shooters. The guy trained us, he knows we're the ones that, uh..." He paused, fearing the answer.

"Tried to kill him?" She finished softly.

"Yeah. That." Another long silence as the car pulled onto a rough country road. He shifted uncomfortably, the (too) familiar sensation of a newly acquired bullet wound came crashing back onto his senses. He couldn't suppress a groan apparently, because she was looking at his torso with a look that perfectly summed up the phrase _'you idiot, look what you did'_.

"Not my fault, he shot me."

"Yeah, I know, I shot him back." He scowled unhappily. The squirt was waiting to see how long it would take for him to notice his own gun shot wound. Typical if his memory served him right.

"You sly little-"

"Get in the back seat. There's a medical kit under the cup holders. Get it, open it, I'm fixing you up." He rolled is eyes.

"In the back of the van we just stole?" She wasn't having anything right now, but for her brother's sake, he was willing to bet at least, that she didn't want to do a bullet removal right here right now.

"Where's the nearest cheap motel?" She asked.

"Four hours. D.C."

"Great. Death by Winter Soldier is going to be loads of fun."

* * *

"Dude, we're on top of some random hotel on the edge of the city. You sure this is the one?" Barnes said nothing, did nothing, just kept on staring at the rising sun. It wasn't unusual, but it wasn't usual either. Sam was getting damn near tired of no answers.

"Come on, Barnes. You said they'd be here on a couple hours. Give me a brief summary." Barnes' dark form shifted, and though Sam had little light to discern it, his friend was now facing him.

"'Bout twenty years ago, there were these kids. Hydra brought 'em in after some bombing. Two were all torn up, so naturally they gave 'em some _"upgrades"._ Wiped their minds, but not like they did it to me. They got rid of everything. Emotion. Memory. Skills. And I watched it all. I watched as they were broken and rebuilt. And I helped. Their old memories were gone for good, but their emotions kept coming back as well as the memories of other missions." Barnes sighed heavily, and Sam was shuddering.

"How old were they?" Sam didn't want to know, but he had to keep this going.

"One of 'em was twelve. The other one was ten." Sam's stomach churned uncomfortably.

"Woah."

"They should be sixteen and fifteen now." Was that pride in his voice?

"And they're smart, so when they escaped they'll be heading for the nearest cheap motel that won't ask questions."

"Let me guess, you taught 'em that." He could hear the assassin chuckle.

"Yeah. Let's just hope the kid remembers how to drive."


	3. Chapter 2

**Okay, this took awhile to write and it isn't the best ever but these things have to get out of the way, so here ya go! Bucky has some issues with the 2005 fantastic 4 movie... Wonder why.**

* * *

"We'd like a room." The hotel manager, defined by his aggressively large 'manager' name tag, didn't make an effort to look up from his questionably illustrated magazine to answer her brother's demand. As if they hadn't been through enough already, this portly man wasn't about to give them the time of day. Or a hotel room.

"Listen, we need a room. _Now."_ Her brother furthered his statement my bringing a fist down onto the counter, splinters of wood showering this way and that. Agitation, this newly found weapon of destruction, proved to be the key to a response. The balding manager glanced above the frames of his glasses and with a very disgruntled sigh, and pulled something from a drawer under the desk. The shiny object that he tossed in her general direction was a key, a ribbon tied around the tiny silver thing suggested that it was for room twelve.

"Thirty bucks a night. I'm guessing cash?" They were both just about done with this smug man already, but certain circumstances (mainly a bullet lodged in her brother's side) required swift action. The girl hesitated only a moment longer before pulling the needed amount of money from a pocket in her Kevlar jacket and set it on the fractured desk. Like the sleaze-bag coward he was, the manager snatched out for the three ten dollar bills and smirked.

"Have a nice night." He murmured, returning to his reading material. Her brother nudged her, a small groan escaping his lips. That was signal enough to head for the elevator. The elevator. A small enclosed space with no quick exits or windows. Maybe she could use the medical kit as a weapon...

"Let's take the stairs." She suggested quietly.

"No way. We're taking the elevator." She sighed and glanced down to where her brother was clutching his side. A sticky red substance was seeping through the black fabric of both his suit and glove. A fight better not fought she decided, and so into the elevator they went.

"What floor?" She looked at the key again, room twelve, two story building, not much room for ten rooms per story. Logically speaking, their room would be on the second floor.

"Second. Room twelve." Her brother had to press the second floor button several times before the doors closed, and the tiny room started moving up.

"Think he'll be up there?" He asked suddenly. Would he?

"No idea... I hope not. That would be one hell of a reunion." The elevator stopped, the lights flickered, and then the door slid open with an unearthly creak. The two walked down the narrow hallway until the reached their room. After inserting the key into it's rightful place, she slung the door open and started to make her observation. Large window, brother currently pulling back the curtains(not the best idea, but sunlight was welcome for the moment), two twin beds, bathroom door (closed), closet (also closed), shabby brown (stained) carpet and horribly papered walls. This was a lawsuit waiting to happen. Meanwhile, brother had taken the liberty of taking the bed closest to the window.

"You're getting blood on the sheets." She teased lightheartedly, readying the briefcase-looking first-aid kit on the edge of the bed. However, her playful banter went right over his head.

"Please tell me there's an anesthetic in there..." She moved objects around, looked in the various side-containers, but nothing was labeled as such. She pursed her lips and looked once more. Still nothing.

"I could knock you out." Oddly enough (well, not all that odd. This was _their_ life) this wasn't an impossibility. A quick blow to the base of the neck would render him unconscious and numb for at least the amount of time it would take to remove the bullet. Her brother considered it, and then shrugged.

"Go for it. But if I wake up with something on my face I'm gonna kill you."

* * *

His grogginess lifted about as easily as it had come on. Swift, but painful. He'd felt things similar to this, but nothing quite as... Emotional as his very own sister rendering him unconscious. He glanced around, not turning his head for fear of making it worse, but 'worse' was inevitable due to the glaring screen of a TV that looked like it was a hundred years old. He couldn't suppress the groan that erupted from his throat, the flashing colors of some cooking show piercing even the blackness of his eyelids.

"Why the _hell_ is that thing on?" He asked the air, not wanting, nor expecting a response from the slender girl at the edge of his bed.

"Have a headache big brother?" She crooned mockingly, not making the slightest effort to turn and look at him.

"Yes... And don't call me that." She reached for a small black remote at her side, in full capacity to turn the blasted thing off, but instead turned up the volume by a few notches.

"Well what else should I call you? Asset Alpha? No thanks." Her tone was even but betrayed agitation.

"Only because you're Asset Omega? Kinda degrading now that I think about it." He remarked, making an effort to sit up and failing tremendously.

"Yeah. Degrading." She murmured, completely ignoring the way he fell back with a pained grunt.

"You know what else is degrading _big brother?"_ Finally, she flipped the TV off and turned around.

"What, pray tell?"

"That amazing pair of eyebrows... And mustache..." Dammit! Now he'd have to kill her.

"I told you not to-"

"I don't follow orders anymore." She smirked, waving a pen in his face. A smirk played across his face as he thought of every way to bring her down while barely breaking a sweat.

"I know that look. Stop it. You get up, you reopen the shot wound." He heeded her advice (for once) and simply closed his eyes to take in what his vision could be distracting him from. The room smelled heavily of mildew, masked slightly by the fabric softener in his sheets. The low hum and whistle of an old vent system was present, and would be on a thirty minute timer (depending on the year it was made). He was warm, that much was for sure, but any other sensation simply wasn't felt from the base of his neck down... And he couldn't move his arms. That send up a yellow flag. Without opening his eyes, perhaps in fear of seeing someone other than his sister, he addressed the only one who had overseen his care for uncounted hours.

"I can't feel my, uh, body."

"Pressure points are fun like that." She replied, a gentle shuffling coming from the general direction of where he remembered her bed to be. When he opened his eyes and turned his head her way (the only movement this situation allowed), she was taking off her boots and depositing them under the bed.

"Pressure points... Do you mean you could've just done that _instead_ of knocking me out?" He growled.

"Yeah." She smirked, stripping off her top layer of Kevlar and gloves.

"Can you undo this? Now?"

"Sorry, has to wear off or there could be nerve damage." Great. Hydra would be looking for them (not to mention the soldier who was obviously somewhere in the same building) and here he was, completely incapacitated in a hotel room that only had one questionably high-up emergency window exit. He knew from experience that jumping from windows while wounded wasn't the most pleasant of instances. The Soldier. Maybe she had something on that note.

"Any sign of him?" He asked.

"Yeah. Engines taking off from the roof. He either got here on a _really_ small plane, or he has a friend with a jet pack." Again, just perfect. Both of those scenarios were not only plausible, but highly probable.

"Any chance of you checking it out?" She sighed and glared at her feet for a moment.

"Guess I could, but I don't want to face him alone. We need to bide our time and let him come to us." She was right. If they went in guns blazing, they would lose. Especially if the Soldier had a jet pack friend.

"Think he'll knock on the door, or through the window?" He taunted lightly.

"Is that a bet?"

"I say window. Door's not his style."

"You're on."

* * *

 _Splitting up a quarrel between his charges was hell. The smaller female would make a comment, he would return it with aggression, and then it always escalated into something involving weapons. The soldier was sprinting down a long hallway after the sounds of explosions and various cries of pain. Though he... somewhat didn't hate seeing his handlers knocked around, their rampage had to end or else all three of them would feel the repercussions. He slid across a cross way, hitting the opposite wall shoulder first and stopping to asses the situation and discern the position of his proteges. Left, nothing. Right, a female child was running barefoot down the hall straight for him, the male not far behind, both followed by a legion of Hydra guards. Rumlow, that young (newly promoted) man was at the helm of the charge. Dammit. The soldier would have to deal with an earful from that guy if he didn't take charge soon. She was close enough now to grab, he reached for her arm and used the girl's momentum to slingshot her into the wall at his side. She slumped immediately and fell to the floor unconscious. The male had skidded to a stop before the soldier could reach for him. Steely blue eyes met green fearful ones. The child was breathing raggedly, the soldier could see blood welling up under the scar tissue on the male's arms where metal merged with muscle. He sighed inwardly, and grasped him abruptly by his upper arm._

 _"Took you long enough." Rumlow spat, holstering his firearm._

 _"I'm gonna cut you some slack and not let this get to Pierce." The bastard was trying to exercise his authority in front of his cronies. Typical of such men. Still, he submitted to such men, and nodded his compliance. The child in his grasp wriggled as the group of masked agents dispersed, finally leaving the hall empty._

 _"Let me go." He whined, the soldier noting that the direction he was pulling... towards the girl lying on the cold floor, crimson smeared the wall behind her and pooling under her arms and legs. Some part of himself didn't like this. Any of it. That part of him was the weak part, and the one that Hydra washed away. Still. It was clawing for attention. He let the male- the kid, run to his counterpart... His little sister._

Bucky ran the memory over in his head, smiling at the way James Buchanan Barnes had broken through programming because of them. The two that had been formed into weapons of mass corruption. He'd been forming a plan ever since Sam had left, but everything Bucky came up with ended with the siblings running out of his reach. Then again, going through windows had that effect on people. Another plan then emerged. Maybe not the best plan, but something that would increase his chances of resolving this the way Steve had. Gently.

And so, the assassin, a highly trained former asset for one of the most viscous organizations in the modern world, standing at a hotel door and waited with his hands in his pockets for a door to open. A first since the 1940s when he'd pick some dame for a dance... Steve, smaller then, would tag along with the friend. Times long passed, and Bucky tried not to think on them too much. In this case, the memories provided a sense of security. Bucky was always full of confidence when his girl would answer the door. Now, he mustered up that same courage and simply... Knocked.

"If it's room service, go away." The boy, his voice deepened noticeably since the last time Bucky had heard it.

"It's not room service. Answer the damn door." The girl, more reasonable as always.

"If it's not room service, that means I just lost a bet."

"Exactly. Let him in." Bucky took a step back, tried his best to not look like the man they knew (just tried to kill), and waited for the door to open. He watched the handle twist, and then the door swung open. Green eyes lay on the other side. Guarded, cautious, and... Almost tall enough to look Bucky in the eye. That factor alone made the assassin mentally cringe. And her. She was standing to the side, arms over her chest and just as on-edge as her brother.

"Are you coming in?" She asked lowly, her brother stepping aside to make room for him. As Bucky stepped through the threshold he couldn't help but notice how the siblings almost flaunted their bionics (unconsciously without a doubt). The door didn't close behind the assassin, much to everyone's approval, but Bucky still didn't like the way the boy walked up behind him. The boy. Hm. Bucky'd have to find names for the two now.

* * *

The trio was stone-faced for the most part as they stood together, no one wanting to say anything. Who would? Only twenty-four hours ago two of the group wanted to kill the other. A fact that she was still having a hard time believing. Better to address it now she supposed.

"Sorry we tried to kill you." Well, that came out a little more blunt than she intended.

"No problem." The Soldier almost looked _normal_ the way he shrugged the whole thing off. Relived as she was, the girl didn't like the new change.

"Yeah. Sorry." Brother echoed, followed by another silence. It was unbearable. Truly. She wanted to talk, catch up, do things she supposed normal people did. For now, watching TV would have to do if they were just going to stand there.

"TV anyone?" Her brother said, a smile pulling on his lips.

"Sounds great." She replied, looking over at the receiver and spotting a DVD case underneath it. At least they wouldn't have to watch any more cooking shows. The girl pulled the case from under the black box and examined it. The cover was dusty, torn, but she could make out the words. Fantastic 4. Simple enough. The other two were getting situated, the Soldier (whose presence still had to be adapted to) was sitting on the edge of her bed with his elbows on his knees. Brother was propped against the headboard of his own bed.

"Don't leave me a seat." She grumbled to herself, but apparently her brother wanted to lift the mood.

"Sit on the floor." Thanks brother. The girl shrugged it off best she could and inserted the disc. It took a few tries and a lot of button pressing to get the DVD player to work, but the sounds of a movie began to play.

The movie started with someone building a statue, some bald dude talking to an obvious scientist about how some other guy wanted to make people feel small. She'd sympathized with that to some degree. After an upward camera pan, the same scientist from before waved his hands at some holograms and gets an idea for something about a spaceship. The business guy agrees. They meet a secretary or something and she tells them about her pilot brother. The siblings exchanged a glace at that. _That's_ about the time they both noticed something weird going on with the assassin just as the camera pans out from a biker kissing some girl. He was on his feet, confusion written all over his face as he leaned closer.

"Steve?" She paused the movie and looked at him.

"Who?" She asked carefully, studying the face of the guy with sunglasses on. No bells rang.

"Steve, he's a... Friend..." Friend? How did the Winter Soldier have a friend?

"Play the movie." He instructed. Willingly, she obliged and let it run. Another scene with bald guy and scientist, then there he was again. He made some crack about a picture he just took. The Soldier looked about ready to punch the TV when bald guy grabbed him by the collar. Time to turn off the movie. She flipped it off and looked to her brother, then to the Soldier. What now?


	4. Chapter 3

**It's up so soon?! Yes, yes it is and in much better quality writing. All thanks to my playlist and my amazing reviewer! Asset Omega makes a new ally _and_ has a little breakdown in this chapter...**

 **Things were too awkward at the point I was, so I skipped ahead just a little to make things flow. It worked out quite nicely.**

* * *

"They're terrorists just as much as I am." Bucky poked a metal finger in his friend's face. Steve sighed and glanced at the two-way glass that separated them from Bucky's... New, or rather old friends. The teenagers had been brought in yesterday kicking and screaming, guns blazing (much to Bucky's disapproval) and were currently restrained and being interrogated. Steve was conflicted. On one hand, they were important to his best friend, meaning they were important to Steve by default. They were like Bucky, been trained by him, and for all Steve knew they could be just as damaged as his friend. On the other hand the two were unpredictable to everyone _besides_ his friend. They had the former assassin's killing skills multiplied by two with a temperament to match. The Captain would have to choose his next words and actions carefully. If he knew nothing and Bucky knew everything maybe he should give the responsibility to his friend. It would be difficult due to everyone's mistrust in the reformed Hydra agent but not impossible as long as Steve oversaw everything. That was the plan now, all that was undecided was where the two would be held while such plans could be put into effect.

"Okay Buck-" Steve was cut off before he could unveil is thoughts. Something sounding like too much like a gunshot came from the other side of the glass had drawn Bucky's attention away completely. He didn't know if he even wanted to look at what his friend was ogling at, but he supposed he had to. The scene was something to behold. The boy was pointing a smoking pistol at the far left corner of the room, towards an unidentified man that was slumped to the floor. A large circle of blood was seeping through the man's tidy suit just above where his heart should be. Steve looked sideways. The girl had the interrogator backed into the right corner nearest to the window, guarding him securely behind her back with her own gun raised over her brother's shoulder for reassurance. How had all of this happened without Bucky _or_ Steve noticing? Speechless, the super-soldier's jaw slacked. The boy, lowering his gun mouthed something (inaudible due to the almost soundproof glass) without taking his eyes off of the stranger whom he'd just shot and maybe killed. The girl mouthed something back, fear manifesting in her expression. The interrogator, a skinny man dawning glasses, said something that made both teenagers turn to face him. Both simultaneously dropped their weapons. Once that was done, nothing less than an army of armed agents spilled into the small hexagon-walled room to subdue the pair of assassins. Coming out of his astonished trance, Steve looked aside, assuming to see his friend but Bucky was gone.

"Bucky!" Steve called out as he opened the exit to the observation room. Bucky was already long gone and out of sight, and Steve knew without a doubt, he wouldn't be seeing anything of his friend for some time. If his friend left without a word it usually meant that he didn't want to be found. As always the super-soldier respected his friend's choice to disappear and decided in a flash that he would deal with the current situation happening a room away. Steve wasn't in his uniform today, having only come in to talk to Bucky about what Natasha told him over the phone but hopefully that wouldn't sway the agent's willingness to follow orders. Steve rushed through the small observation room (Carelessly trying not to look at what was going on) again to the opposite door which led him into a smaller hall that curved into another small hallway that had two doors at the end. The captain had to enter a four-digit key code to open the door to the interrogation room which (thank God) he remembered. Once the door slid open the scene had settled.

"Captain Rogers." The interrogator stepped through the group of agents to greet the Captain with a handshake. Right now Steve didn't want to entertain pleasantries, but shook the man's hand anyway. Steve wasn't anything if not respectful after all. Steve could tell that the smaller man was just as surprised about all of this as he was by the way sweat beaded on his brow and the way his hand shook as the Captain released it. As the two broke eye contact and somehow shifted to stand shoulder to shoulder in the crowded room, now in front of the pair of assassins. Steve took a very personally objection to the way they looked defeated, the way they hung their heads.

"Where are they going now?" He asked the man standing beside him.

"They're being moved to the underground cell until we can get this mess cleaned up. After that they'll be back here." He replied, sighing deeply as his eyes darted from one sibling to the other. Steve stepped aside for the six-agent detail and the kids they pushed forward through the door. The Captain watched after them for a few moments, debating on whether or not to follow, maybe get a word in with the teenagers before anything drastic happened.

"Sir, you're permitted to engage with them despite the lack of actually being called for duty." Steve nodded in self-confirmation and without a second more's thought otherwise followed the path of the agents out of the second door. While following the group he kept a particularly close eye on the boy. He was stumbling every few steps and the guards hadn't seemed to acknowledge it or slow down for him to regain his footing. The girl however, she noticed, and would whisper something sidelong to him after each stumbling step he took, not unlike Bucky used to do for him after one of his fights. Sometimes, Steve knew, a quiet word from your best friend is the one thing that keeps you walking straight. This pattern continued until they were at the base of three flights of stairs, where one of the agents pressed a key card to an empty space on the concrete wall. A hidden door ground open, hydraulics hissing with effort as the most secure room on the base's complex was opened and prepared for it's newest inhabitants. The cell wasn't much different than the one upstairs if not bigger, but still had the hexagonal panels that were nearly indestructible lining the floor and walls.

"Keep moving." Steve caught one of the agents saying to the boy. His eyes were dilating, and his sister seemed to be distressed, pulling at the arms that kept her moving forward. Something in Captain was unnerved by this, like he'd seen it before. Steve could have, should have, jumped in then to check the kid out. The girl was frantic, but still silent, and her brother's feet were dragging with each step.

"Captain Rogers, are you staying?" One agent asked, the girl's head whipping around to scowl in Steve's direction. He nodded to the agent, who nodded back and proceeded to command his agents once more.

"Restrain them." Not happening. Steve shifted in the most noticeable of ways, scowling to get his point across that they were _most definitely_ not going to do that.

"Er, never mind." The agent corrected himself just as The two were being fastened to high-powered magnet panels in the wall. The girl wouldn't stop glaring at him, her green eyes challenging him to make another move. Steve wanted to help, for Bucky's sake and for theirs. For God's sake one of them was nearly unconscious and both of them were too much like Bucky when Steve had first found him. They were scared, though they wouldn't let it show. The captain had mastered dealing with ex-assassins, knew enough, and right now they just needed someone to care.

"Will you need anything Captain?" The agents were all filing out now except one.

"I'll be fine." Steve replied, nodding his thanks to the agent as he back out of the cell leaving just the three of them. The girl was no longer occupying herself with the Captain.

"What did he shoot you up with?" She muttered, worrying over her brother's limp body. He mumbled something incoherent, closing his eyes with a very deep exhale. He seemed to be fully gone by then, but Steve took an almost involuntary step forward.

"Who the hell are _you?"_ The girl spat, standing to defend her brother. No doubt their bionic limbs had been altered in some way during their stay, to make them less powerful but enough to function. Upon first arriving, Bucky had asked Stark to do the very same thing, so the genius billionaire being as such developed a program that reduced the functionality of Hydra's tech. All that, leading to the fact she couldn't crush his hand if he offered a handshake.

"Steve Rodgers." He extended his hand, putting the other one in his leather jacket pocket, as if this were just a meeting of new friends.

"They called you Captain. You're a military man." She stated, refusing the handshake, crossing her arms.

"I used to be." Steve said, unsure of what else to add to the conversation, really wanting to speed it along so he could look at the kid on the floor.

"You know the Soldier." She stated, her frown somewhat lifting into recognition.

"Bucky. He's my friend." One brow raised skeptically.

"He has a name? And it's _Bucky?"_ Steve was taken aback by the chuckle she let out. Uncrossing her arms, she held out a relaxed hand.

"Asset Omega. Nice to meet you." He took her hand and shook it firmly, noticing the way the panels shifted and slid under his touch. She let go, and in doing so Steve took it as a silent sign of allowance. He moved around her, kneeling low next to the body of the young man. His cheeks were bright pink, like a violent blush, sweat soaked his messy light brown hair and the collar of his Avengers-issued T-shirt. Steve was positive he had a fever, but out of sheer instinct placed the palm of his hand over the kid's brow. Sure enough he was burning up. For a moment, the kid reminded Steve of his pre-serum self. Always sick with fever, his mother tended to him hand and foot when she was alive. When she died, Bucky had taken on that role, and however much Steve said he hated it... He was more grateful than any kid from Brooklyn could be.

"The Hydra agent that broke in hit him with some kind of poison. Not enough to kill him. The vile was only partially emptied." The girl said quietly, as if not to disturb the Captain.

"We need to cool him off." She added thoughtfully. Steve nodded and turned to observe the sparse room. If he remembered correctly, there was a panel somewhere that made a bed spring out of the wall. And another one that send down food and water. Of course the panels were only activated by certain thumb prints. The Captain stood and swiftly, almost gracefully, crossed the room, pressing his thumb into one of the hexagonal panels. A blue laser flashed, sure enough a few feet away a bed had sprung from the wall, sheets, pillow and all. Steve did the same for the next panel over. The super-soldier was surprised when a sink, and cabinet ejected from the wall this time. He knelt, opened the cabinet and found plush white towels folded neatly and stacked one on top of the other. He smirked. Someone was probably watching them. That same someone might have sent all this just for the occasion.

"Yes, Steve. The towels are very pretty. Can we get to the bigger problem here?" The snark was well received (Though partially ignored), and Steve got to work immediately.

* * *

"You know the Soldier." She'd asked the same question at least three times now, still not receiving the answer she craved for. The Captain wasn't reluctant to much as ignorant to reveal the answer.

"Yes, I know Bucky." That name. The Soldier was menacing, intimidating, _scary_ for lack of a better description. And through all these years of being influenced by his dark nature... His name was _Bucky._ It was a name at least. A mark of identity that was the lifeline in a storm. Something to be grounded on when you lost your way. Your name was you. And she was Asset Omega, second banana to her brother that she was never envious of (yet, for emotions still clawed for attention) but strove to be like. Asset Omega, the lowest rank in a pack of three assassins. Three in a pack that had recently been shattered by free will and something called the Avengers. That would have to change along with everything else. If life was changing, so must they, side by side as always with new marked identities. She looked up at the Captain, piecing together an almighty question that would help her to understand.

"Why is his name Bucky?" The large blonde stopped his worrying for a moment to draw a hand over his hair. After a deep exhale he responded.

"His name is James Buchanan Barnes." Ah. The soldier had not one but three names, and James didn't even suit him. Bucky was a _nickname._ In her terms, an alias, something that kept one identity but shrouded another.

"Bucky is short for his middle name. Buchanan." She deducted flatly. With her brother half-dead she needed someone to filter her thoughts, and unlike her brother this man remembered what the world was like. Rogers seemed more than happy to reply, answer questions. He was good, practiced even.

"That's right." He stopped all together now, started walking over to her comfortable observation area in the corner of the room. She was going to allow him to sit, maybe converse on who _she_ was. Maybe _her_ name. But no, the way he walked confidently, towered over her... She didn't like that. Too many times had that situation ended with a beating.

"Don't." She commanded, up in a flash to stand as tall and defiant in her little corner. A small victory on her part, now she could fight back in the little ways she couldn't before. Much to her delight he backed away and went on with his business. Another first. She would surely revel in this later, but right now her brother needed to get over being poisoned. By Hydra. The ones who ruined their lives, turned them into weapons. Disposable by those in power, yet loose ends that needed tying off before they could give any locations (or otherwise) away to their enemies. The thought made her blood boil with anger. _Nothing more than Asset Omega._ Blind anger took control, faster than lightning she was throwing fist after fist into the wall.

 _Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!_

Each punch brought on a fresh wave of hatred for _them._ They'd pay pay for it all. They'd all _die_ for what they've done to countless lives.

 _Clang! Clang! Clang clang clang! Clangclangclangclang!_

Reality was slipping through her fingertips, melding with the horrors of her young life. And her speed was picking up. _Just. Keep. Hitting._ Her subconscious roared through the red haze, knock it down. Knock it _all_ down. _Kill it!_

 _"Kill him! Do it!"_

 _"No!" She threw the gun at her handler, who in turn payed her a mindful swat to her face._

Keep hitting.

 _"Kill him."_

 _"N-no." Reluctance. Defiance. Another beating._

Keep hitting.

 _"Kill. Him."_

 _"Yes sir." The man in the chair squirmed, writhed, desperately called out upon deaf ears. She killed him._

Keep hitting... Keep... Hitting...

 _"Omega!"_ That voice, she knew it, knew it knew it knew it! Not allowed to know. Not allowed. Source find the source and destroy it. _Keep hitting._

"Stop!" Clearer now. Easier to find. _Keep hitting._

 _"Omega_ stop!" She was not Omega. She was not their tool, weapon, _pet!_ No more! _Keep hitting._

"Sis. Stop." Subdued. The source wasn't fighting. Not fighting... Why? Why why _why?_

"That's it. That's it, come on back." Awareness. A face. His face, pinned below her, bloody from an onslaught of her punches.

"Alpha?" The rage haze was broken. It was clear again. So clear... _I just tried to kill my brother._ The only one... _Oh god._ She froze in horror, staring down at the battered form of the brother she cared so much for, _loved,_ brought down by her own hand. _He didn't fight back._

"Alpha?" She whined.

"It's me, it's me. Put it down sis." She twisted her neck, gazing up at the weapon clenched in her fist, an unidentified shard of metal. With a gasp, she let it fall.

"No."

"Sis, I'm here." She tried to concentrate, to not allow what had just transpired to gain a foothold. His voice could be trusted, so she zeroed in on that.

"I- You- You didn't fight-" She wailed, sitting back on her heels.

"I couldn't. You have a better face than me." He pulled back, mimicking her position, cupping her face with his cool touch. She leaned into it, reached out, pulling his presence as close as humanly possible. Her whole world was this. Was him. His voice. And she wasn't letting go. Never.

* * *

He stroked her tussled hair rhythmically, soothing the ball of rage that was his little sister. Armored guards were watching all around. Somehow the large blonde stranger (who the boy would like to talk to later, maybe thank him) had convinced the soldiers to let him handle it. How he handled it, was by letting Asset Alpha handle it. All this was too complicated. He was still so damn dizzy from being pummeled that none of it had any significance or weight on his consciousness. He was aware, he just didn't care about anything. That is, except for her. The one sobbing into his shoulder. The one who clung to him like a lifeline.

"I should have some pretty cool scars after this sis." He murmured softly, beginning to rub soothing circles on her back. Her breath became uneven, escalating to a point she wasn't breathing properly.

"Breathe, sis. In and out." It took too long for her to regain composure and stop sobbing. He blinked, allowing her to hold on as long as she needed. He didn't care. Things were going to hell faster than anyone could account for and he hated that. He hated everyone accept her, and maybe the Soldier and his friend. Other than that, well, he despised everyone and everything that moved. Lucky for the guards, they were too disciplined to move. Lucky for the guards, that word was plural and his limbs had been weakened. Lucky lucky them.

"You need to take a shower. And a haircut." She mumbled, loosening her death-grip on his torso so that green eyes met.

"Yeah, well..." He glanced at his own nearly shoulder-length hair. She was right dammit. Any situation where she was right was a situation best avoided. Yet, she deserved it. _Let the tiger have her bone for once._

"I... You're right." She hummed in obvious satisfaction. In a moment her gaze was lifting to the guards that were behind him.

"Is the issue resolved?" One identified guard asked from the ring. If he was supposed to answer, they had another thing coming. His days of answering to anyone were over. As were hers, even if he had to be an advocate for her opinion. The boy put a gentle touch to his sister's shoulders and stood up most confidently. She followed suit. Both were shaky, off balanced, disoriented, angry and lost... But seeing them stand there with such confidence surrounded by weapons... It was a good start.

* * *

 **So that happened very very abruptly, I know, but that's the whole point. I plan for her to have this as her flaw/arc whatever. She goes into a rage haze whenever provoked.**

 **A/N: Please don't expect other chapters to be up in this short amount of time, for all I know it could be a one time thing -shrugs-**

 **Reviews are appreciated _so much._ Please review. Don't even favorite unless you really like it. Don't hit favorite until you love it, and please review _until_ I make you want to love it.**

 **Peace out Marvel homies.**


	5. Chapter 4

"Send in the next..." He could hear the interrogator through the door long before his sister emerged with her usual entourage of 'no less than four agents at all times'. As per growing familiarity he wasn't allowed to touch his sister through the wall of bodies that separated them, but the guidelines said nothing about a kind word or in their case... a lighthearted tease.

"Nice braid." He sneered, the remark making claim to the required style she'd chosen through a list that some agent or other had provided. The boy knew his sister hated not having it down at all times. He also knew that she hated people doing her hair _for_ her. All in all it was a pretty good jab.

"You can talk. Ponytail." He feigned a childish whimper, stomped his foot (uncovered for security reasons. but they always made the most unpleasant noise when brought into contact with these particular floor tiles), crossed his arms and pouted. He could hear her chuckle echo down the hall as she was taken away. And then he himself was muscled into that tiny god-awfully quiet room with Wilson last-name-unknown.

"Have a seat, son." Wilson tried his best to sound cheerful, but only succeeded in showing his intolerance for the early day. No doubt sister had an earful to deliver this morning. Sighing mentally, he pulled out the chair and sat down across from the interrogator. Alpha didn't dislike Wilson but he sure as hell didn't like him either. Wilson was in the grey area of 'like or don't like' with the Soldier's friend and the guy who gave the siblings extra portions when he delivered meals. Actually, maybe that guy went into the 'like' department...

"Asset Alpha, _please_ answer the question." Desperation itself broke through the barriers of his thoughts. That and the boy's alias. Asset Alpha wasn't him anymore, nor will it ever be again, so he should probably stop refering to himself as Alpha.

"What question? Were you talking to me?"

 _"Yes."_ Wilson looked over the tops of his glasses disapprovingly, his normal mantra of 'I'm here to help' didn't start up as it did at the beginning of every session. Suspicious, or amusing. Eh, he'd find out.

"I asked you the whereabouts of Hydra's current base." Ah. That's why it wasn't amusing. And why Wilson was so bedraggled. Sister was good at what she called "Reverse interrogation", where you give nothing away yet gain all you need. He wasn't so good at it though. The last time the boy tried they ended up in a gulag, then rescued by the Soldier. What amazing times those were. As for the current Hydra base he didn't want to divulge much. These new guys seemed nice, but what was their end game? What would happen to them once all valuable information was extracted?

"As my sister probably explained... We're not in a favorable position to divulge such secrets." He held a confident smirk, hoping to further Wilson's frustrations.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, she went into _great detail_ explaining that to me." Nailed it. Victory enough for the two of them.

"However-" Wilson continued.

"-I think we can negotiate something in regards to your freedom." There's a thought, freedom, life's great lie. You were never free from anyone. There's always someone on your back. _Holding_ you back. Still, it would be pretty amusing to explore the interrogator's deal.

"I'm listening." He mocked interest, leaning his elbows on the table. Still smirking, but with practiced intimidation that made Wilson shift uncomfortably.

"Ehem... You should know that I proposed this to your sister as well before we get started."

"She said to talk to me?"

"Yes. She seemed impartial, but I think a positive opinion might sway-"

"I'm not here to manipulate my sister. Spit it out Wilson."

"Supervised rehabilitation."

 _"What?"_ Supervised. Not a fun word. Rehabilitation. An even less fun word. Wilson's proposal was shaping up to be pretty shitty right now.

"It's where you are found a supervisor-"

"I'm not stupid Wilson. I know what it means." The interrogator sighed, rubbing his forehead in the most obvious show of being hopelessly and utterly done-ness. If that was a word.

"Then, if you're so smart, who will be your supervisor?" He thought for a moment, gathering past experiences with something similar Hydra called 'The conditioning period'.

"Not you. You're weak, untrained in defense. Not any of your agents, because if this is _freedom_ then you'll be returning our weaponry to it's rightful power level, therefore you'll need someone a lot stronger. And someone with similar experience that's already been "rehabilitated"." He stressed the word with air quotes, not going to settle for anything less sarcastic than that.

"That's-"

"Right, I know. I'm smart. Now, I'd suggest someone inside this agency- whatever it is." The boy didn't care at all what this place was called, though he'd heard something called "Avengers" when he was being led around. To him it sounded like what a team of vigilantes would call themselves, or a... What was it called? Boy band?

"Now you're _suggesting_ qualities?" As a damn matter of fact...

"Yes. If we're gonna be babysat I should have an input on my baby _sitter."_ He crossed his arms over his chest to further his input in the matter. Wilson wasn't amused, nor was he giving any lead-way with the conversation. And then, oh god, he was about to argue.

"You have no rights here, Asset Alpha. May I remind you that you have killed, and tried to kill multiple political figures over the span of fifteen years." Did Wilson think he _forgot_ about all that? No, he didn't forget. in fact, he remembered every life they'd taken in Hydra's name. Every life, and everyone involved. The children, Maggie and Sam, who'd watched their politician father George Darcy as he was thrown from the apartment window to make it look like... And the husband that watched his secretary wife Haley Kurt... The civilian mother and child that witnessed his sister shooting governor Jamison... It stung to remember. Stung like hell to think of the lives he and his sister had ruined in order to please their handlers, to please Hydra. _Hydra._

"I remember everything okay!?" He shouted, suddenly on his feet, dents pounded into the shiny table where he'd been sitting.

"So you know where the base is?" Wilson asked, keeping cool.

"Yes. I know where your damn base is." He ground behind his teeth, scowling at the bald man that had somehow stirred those horrible memories that he'd rather forget. He wanted to _move on_ and _get out_ of this circle of death and the memories made within it.

"There is no reason to get upset."

"The hell it isn't! We've killed people. _I've_ killed people. Women, kids, and it _HURTS!"_

"I understand." No he didn't. _No he did not._

"Don't say that. Don't try to make it all better with your useless shrink tactics. There are only two people I know who _understand,_ Wilson."

"And who are they?"

"My sister. And the Soldier."

"Sergeant Barnes?"

"Whatever you call him."

"Sergeant Barnes has been off premises for four weeks." He knew that. If the Soldier had been anywhere near the building they would have heard from him, seen him.

"I know."

"How, Asset Alpha?"

"Deduction, smart ass."

"Please watch your language, we're being recorded." All this talk of killing people and Wilson was warning him about _language?_ Oh he'd show them language. At that point, every manner of explicit words, in every language, erupted from his lips in a flurry of erratic shouting.

* * *

"You screwed it up! I leave you with a perfectly malleable situation and you _screwed it up!"_ She didn't know what she hated more. Her brother's stupidity was just a hair ahead of his multilingual vocabulary. She had spent _two hours_ wearing Wilson down to a breaking point and what does this one do? He left the supervised rehab thing _open for discussion._ She would have done it herself, absolutely, but she figured it would be a good way to let him handle the conversation aspect for once. Boy did she make a big mistake.

"I couldn't help it."

"Like hell." She muttered to herself.

"It could've been worse." He ventured, almost a dare for her to explore the possibilities.

"Yeah. He could've had you muzzled. Actually..." She looked up at the caged security camera riveted to the ceiling of her cell.

"Any chance we could do that?" She asked.

"Shut up!" Her brother protested from his side of the split prison.

"You'll be the one shutting up if I have any say in it." She didn't really mean it, nor would she ever actually want her brother muzzled, but sometimes it was better to show the way she felt by using such terms rather than just yelling at him to shut up. Unlike her brother, who would rather snark and curse in twelve different languages until he either got his way or failed miserably, she tended to take the more thought-out and meticulous route. Things could've been worse, but they could also have gone much better. Both knew this, and both were at least somewhat inclined to correct the mistake.

"Do you know what we're having for lunch?" She twisted her neck around to see what he was doing now, and got a surprise when he was sitting on the floor, leaning on the glass barrier. She sighed, deciding to drop the mental baggage of the day and maybe have an actual conversation with her brother. Even if it was just about lunch.

"It can be anything as long as it's not salad." She said, crossing her room to sit with her back against the corner, shouldering the transparent barrier. She followed her brother's movements closely as he sat and drew on knee up close to his chest, his right hand resting gently on top.

"Do you ever think about what your favorite color is?" Brother's question was off-topic and slightly startling. Favorite? She knew she liked things but never a favorite. She hadn't seen enough of the world for that just yet, and what she _had_ seen of the world was a pretty poor basis. No, she hadn't thought about it until now.

"No. Do you?" He shrugged.

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

"Uh, I like green." It made sense, green was the color of their eyes, the color of grass and trees, the color of the light that flashed on their cryo chambers when they were opened. It was the color of freedom. Freedom which they had yet to achieve through positive or negative means. Negative was more the choice here, but perhaps they'd have to give a little of their pride...

"Hey, about the whole 'You screwed it up' thing, sorry."

"No, I really did screw it up. The whole thing should've just been a definite no. I shouldn't have tried to play genius." He ran the left hand through his hair, ruffling the neatly combed lines and expelling the ponytail holder that was keeping it up. He was unnecessarily apologetic about the whole thing, it was different coming from him.

"It might be better that you left it open. What if we said yes?"

"And let ourselves be micro-chipped and babysat-"

"No. Well, maybe, but we'd have a new chance."

"Sis, we don't even have _names_ let alone a chance at normal life."

"Well then maybe it's time we found names. _Right now._ What do you want to be called?" His eyebrows shot up.

"Right now? I thought this was going to be a natural thing, you know?"

"We need to build new identities. And building starts with the foundation. Without that, it's gonna be awhile. We don't have the time for that. What do you want to be called?" Both were utterly silent, neither one stirred in the faintest. The journey was starting here for both of them, two paramount decisions were about to be made and no one could stop them. While he pondered, she did as well. Who would she be? She didn't know many normal names. Maybe ones she'd used as an alias during her days with Hydra, but nothing other than that. Teresa? No... Elizabeth? No... _Vanna._ Now _that_ was a name. Not average, not strange, just right for a young assassin. Was that her? Was that who she was destined to be? Yes. Vanna.

* * *

He thought and thought for maybe an hour, sifting through names upon names that didn't fit _at all._ He tried Jonathan, good but no cigar. He rolled Baxter around in his head, but couldn't see it. Sister however, was grinning at her feet. She had a name already, and he wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear who she was now, maybe pick a name that accompanied hers. That was a good idea, he'd be connected to her forever through the name he would choose for himself. But what if something happened to her? What if she- No. He couldn't choose a name that accompanied hers. Life was too cruel to let that happen without repercussions. Still, he wanted to know what she'd chosen. So he was going to ask.

"What did you pick?" She looked up at him, eyes shining bright, smile spread wide across her face.

"My name is Vanna." Vanna. He could see it perfectly. Her name fit perfectly, and so he found himself smiling with her.

"That's great. Vanna." He tried it on his tongue. It felt good, uplifting even. She'd found herself. Now it was his turn. It wasn't easy picking an Identity contrary to how easy his targets made it look. They had something to work with, a birth certificate to change, he had to start from absolute scratch. More names ran across his thoughts, all dismissed. For the longest time (he presumed it had been a long time, but it was probably only half an hour) his sister- Vanna- watched as he struggled with his decision. Finally, the perfect one. Perfect. Ace. Just Ace. He was Ace now.

"Got something?" Vanna- Sister- said hopefully from the other side.

"Yeah. I'm Ace now. Just Ace." She was giggling, not with amusement but with joy. Something he'd never seen before out of her. It was such a welcome contrast to her normal steely self. He knew how they both thought about Hydra most of the time, the things they did, how they _enjoyed_ what they did in some twisted way. It was relieving to see her smile for this small moment. It wasn't going the last however, the doors to both their cells were opening. Respectively, Ace and Vanna turned their heads to look, the usual sight greeted them, except none of them were carrying lunch.

"Special occasion?" Ace asked the nearest one.

"Sergeant Barnes brought your afternoon meal for the day." The Soldier brought lunch? After a month of nothing he showed up to get them lunch? Irked as he was, Ace allowed his entourage to urge him into wrist restraints. While his group was busy fastening the electronic cuffs, he looked across to Vanna. She was already being ushered out into the hall. This was how it worked most of the time. She was more compliant but not for the reasons anyone on the outside could comprehend. They'd decided upon first arriving to choose battles carefully. Fighting when transported was one such battle that they didn't exactly fight directly.

* * *

Cheese pizza seemed alright. Steve told him that it's what teenagers ate these days. Obviously they were not modern teenagers, or even modern anything for that matter, but it never hurt to try. Besides, he liked the Italian pie himself. The assassin was staring at the two boxes of pizza fixedly. He'd forgotten something important back at the apartment, had it set out on his bed and everything. What it was he couldn't recall, but he was trying his damnedest to remember. He looked down at his shirt almost unconsciously. That was it, the clothing he'd bought for them. Bucky grimaced with blooming agitation. Forgetting things like this was normal, but both the gesture of getting lunch and new clothes was going to accompany the announcement of their supervised rehabilitation. He and Steve were going to be the supervisors. This whole thing was going to be a roller coaster ride, as it had been for the two super-soldiers, but now it was two against two, and half of them were teenage assassins. Bucky had thought all of this out before jumping into after the better part of the month spent in- well, he didn't want to think about that right now- but he'd planned everything out. Steve took care of the paperwork and more Avengers-related obstacles this week, while Bucky arranged the little meeting with Wilson Brown and his proteges and got the apartment more or less readied. All of the windows were bulletproof, his weapons were stashed in the empty apartment downstairs, the fridge was stocked and the empty space in the spare bedroom was now taken by two twin beds and a modest set of furniture donated by the highly skeptical Tony Stark. Stark had also provided each of them with an entirely new wardrobe. The only problem now was how well this meeting went.

"Sergeant Barnes?" A female voice asked through some hidden speaker. He looked up at the ceiling to signal his response, still after all this time not sure how to react to a voice that came from everywhere.

"Assets Alpha and Omega are approaching the door." Bucky rolled his eyes. Did they really need to announce everything around here? Couldn't someone just spring through the door and make life interesting? Bucky scoffed at himself. As if life wasn't interesting enough already. Right on cue, the door slid to the side with a pressurized hiss, three guards were revealed in the doorway, then two more, and then the siblings in question, followed by another five agents. Bucky forced himself into stony silence as the guards corralled the two into their seats. The assassin couldn't help but notice the way both of them never looked away, never broke eye contact. Such things were customary back at Hydra. Make eye contact unless told otherwise.

"Sergeant Barnes. Wonderful to see you again." Wilson entered shortly after the last two guards, wearing the same suit as he always did.

"Alpha, Omega." The girl's face scrunched up in something resembling disgust.

"We have names now, Wilson. Or have you not been paying attention to your security?" She spat. Bucky smirked and raised an accusatory eyebrow at Brown.

"I'm afraid that's not my department miss...?" Brown made a gesture towards the both of them as he sat.

"Vanna."

"And Ace."

"They're fitting names." Wilson agreed with a nod. Bucky smiled with no shame. He was undeniably proud of these two- of Ace and Vanna. The siblings were paving a road for their own life.

"We think so." Ace snarked, glancing at the pizza box, and then to Bucky.

"This you?" he asked.

"Thought you might like pizza. The food here sucks." Vanna was too busy glaring daggers at Wilson to notice... And there was something in her eyes that the assassin didn't like.

"Vanna?" He tried her new name (and liked it), dropping his tone to something low, more authoritarian. She didn't move. Her brother reached for her arm and pulled the sleeve of her shirt more lightly than any motion he'd ever seen used by the kid.

"Vanna, lunch, remember?" Ace whispered. She seemed to drag her narrowing eyes away from Wilson's widening ones, almost unable to do so.

"Yeah, lunch. What is it?" The girl asked, her voice low and quiet. Bucky reached for the lid of the box. As he flipped it open he could practically see the desire in both their eyes as they looked at the steaming pie.

"Do you like cheese?" Bucky asked them, smiling ever so slightly as their faces lit up at the prospect of eating something other than low-grade cafeteria food.

"You bet your shiny left arm, Barnes." Surprisingly, it was Vanna who made the comment, Vanna who reached for the first slice. Vanna who'd called him something other than the Soldier. And yet Ace wasn't far behind.

"Might as well bet the right one too." The kid said, taking a bite out of the greasy slice and then humming in satisfaction.

"I think we should attend the matter at hand." Wilson interrupted. Bucky sighed, bracing himself for the long conversation ahead by scooping up a piece of the cheesy pie with his left hand.

"What would that be?" Vanna asked through a mouthful of food.

"Your-"

"If you say supervised rehabilitation I swear I'm breaking your leg." Ace growled. Bucky took an uncaring bite of pizza, trying his best not to spring on the agent that flipped the safety off on his gun.

"But it is the matter we're here to discuss. Sergeant Barnes, if you would please explain." Bucky took a few more bites out of his pizza. He wanted his answer to be a straight-to-the-point as possible. There would be more questions that way, but questions that could be answered with one or two word sentences.

"You're coming to live with Steve and I in D.C." Ace stopped mid-grab as he was going for another slice. Vanna finished chewing and ever to calmly replied with a question.

"Steve is the blonde one, right?" Bucky nodded, and then watched as Ace withdrew his hand.

"I liked him." She took another bite.

"He's in the grey area." Ace was growing uncomfortable, his voice shook slightly, and that was the last thing Bucky wanted right now. Ace's discomfort could snowball-effect into something undesirable.

"Well, you'll find that all of the legal things have been taken care of. You will be transported out of New York as soon as it is convenient for Sergeant Barnes." Bucky really wanted Wilson to get lost.

"Can we have a minute?" The assassin asked. Well, asked was beating around the bush. Bucky couldn't be more blunt unless he outright ordered everyone out.

"Um, of course Sergeant-"

"Now." Bucky punctuated his annoyance with a single word. The agents filed out in orderly fashion, Wilson being the first to leave. Once Bucky was sure they were alone (physically at least, the cameras were most surely on) he inhaled deeply and just took them in for a minute. They were strong, on the road to independent, he was proud for that. Very proud. But they were also just like his own former self, an assassin with no ties to the world except for one link. That link was him, James Buchanan Barnes. And he'd let them know.

"So, what are our living conditions gonna be like?" Ace sighed.

"Better than this." Bucky replied, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

"And you get to meet Captain America."

* * *

They were on the home stretch now. Barnes was driving, Ace was in the front seat, she was in the back behind the driver so she could keep an eye on her brother. The past eight or so hours had gone by so fast. The siblings had been whisked off to a lab (after much protest from both of them and from Barnes) and fitted with irremovable microchips. Then they were off in an armored car, lectured the whole way there on the dos and don'ts of this little arrangement. The don'ts included leaving the apartment without Barnes or Captain Rogers, destruction of property, and paramount... _No killing._ The dos were a little more like... Well, she didn't know. She'd never been talked to with the softness Barnes had when he explained it to both of them on the plane ride. Ask for things when you need them, it's okay to ask questions, you're not going to be punished for speaking your mind, or punished period. Barnes stressed the importance of getting food when they're hungry, explaining that they had the freedom to not only feed themselves but get what they wanted. It was all so foreign and intimidating. The last leg of the journey was made at night and by rental car. No one had said a word the entire two hours. This was mostly due to how utterly fascinated the siblings were with what was outside the windows. Illuminated sings, other people going about their lives, animals, trees, the moon and stars...

"We're almost there." Barnes said, the car lurching left as they turned into a small area of clustered apartments.

"What's gonna stop us from running off?" Ace asked. Vanna rolled her eyes and waited for the driver to answer.

"Hopefully that chip in your neck." She chuckled as her brother rubbed the base of his neck where it'd been injected. The car pulled to a soft stop on the side of the street in front of one of the nicer buildings lining the road. Barnes opened his door without moment's hesitation and stretched once he was outside. The simplicity of it all, like a family coming home from a road trip. Family, what a weird word. She supposed she and Ace were family, but Barnes? That was a question she wanted to answer, but decided against it in this moment. She was weary and she wanted to sleep.

"Coming Vanna?" The voice made her jump, for it was Barnes' voice coming from outside the open car door. He was standing off to the side, giving her space to step out onto the sidewalk. Ace was at her side in the split second she had shut the door. She looked up at him then shifted closer so that their shoulders were touching. The closeness of her brother was something she needed right now. At least when she was nearly delirious from lack of sleep. Barnes started walking without another word towards an exposed metal staircase. The trip up was no more than a blur, then they were walking through the door. She had to admit, this place was nice. Simple, but nice. But no Captain in sight.

"Steve?" The soldier called out, none too loud. The sound of a door opening and footsteps made her shift closer to Ace. The blonde Captain wasn't smiling when he came into view, but he radiated relief and happiness.

"Sorry about not calling." Barnes said, seeming to dodge the fact that there were two assassins standing only inches away.

"Don't worry Buck. Let's just get them settled in." She could feel Ace's hand on the small of her back, reassuring her.

"Your room's this way. Bathroom is over there. Your bathroom is there by your room. Kitchen, living room, my room is down the hall next to Bucky's." Rogers pointed everything out from the entry way. Everything could be _seen_ from the entry way. It was a nicely spread-out apartment, a TV in the living room (Muted), kitchen lights on and... Ugh. She'd have to do her deductions in the morning.

"You two should get ready for bed. There's a shower in both bathrooms and pajamas on your beds." Honestly too worn out to do anything otherwise, she allowed herself to be guided about by Rogers. He led her to the bathroom closest to their room, given her a simple T-shirt branded as "Pink Floyd" with some triangle and rainbow design on the front accompanied by a pair of dark sweatpants. She took her shower and did other things one would do in a bathroom. She almost brushed her hair out in front of the mirror. Almost. In her state, she'd actually accidentally carried the hairbrush into the space between the room and living room. Barnes caught her not far from the door and without invading her closely guarded personal space, took the brush and pointed her towards her room.

"What a day, right?" Ace asked from his side of the room once she'd fell into her bed. Vanna didn't answer. She was too busy falling asleep.

* * *

 **Hello homies! Longer as promised and sorta kinda late-ish. A** **nyway, Ace and Vanna are just names I thought up while writing, and in my opinion suit them well. I threw in an easter egg of sorts by using the suggested names that I got in the reviews. Next time on the MarvelGirlFromOKC channel, we'll get a nice little conversation about how the siblings are actually thirty years old. Peace out, please review!**


	6. Chapter 5

**-really long sigh and tears over Civil War trailer- Hello to anyone who reads this! It's been what, a month, and it's not very good. Filler and mild fluff(kinda-not-really-mildly-sorry) and Ace having a mental breakdown because of a toddler.**

 **Small broken promise. No "we're really thirty" convo 'cause it didn't fit.**

* * *

"How about I put your lazy ass in a grocery bag and drop it down the chute... How'd ya like that?" Ace mumbled to himself, pulling the hatch to the garbage chute down and tossing one of five overflowing bags inside. The teen hated taking out the trash, which was odd, seeming how this was the first time. Barnes insisted on the two taking on responsibility after the two week mark of rehab, and it was alright at first. Doing dishes was easy, fun even as long as nothing had to be scrubbed out of the grooves in his hands. Dusting Rogers' records was fine too. Cleaning counters, rooms and bathrooms was even better, especially if Ace got to do it his way. But taking out the trash was too much work for too little pay-off. He had to cover up completely, hide himself from prying eyes as he went up three flights of stairs to the chute. He supposed it was a lesser of two evils. It was up three flights, or down five and up again. _Or_ he could've gone to the grocery store with his sister and Steve. Whatever. He tossed the last of the bags down and was nearly ready to go back to the stairway.

"Mary!" Ace spun swiftly to asses the threat- no, the woman. _Damn, it's been a moth and a half of no Hydra pull yourself together Ace... Let's see._ _Young, using crutches and toting a heavy bag. Child bouncing around, female, four years at most. Clothes are clean but old. The child's clothes are of better quality. Gift from Grandma, and no mom takes away a gift._ _She's struggling with money, refusing to accept it from her mother most likely_ _. Complete mess of a bandaged sprained right ankle, discount clinic, and-_ The young woman was falling, all contents of her grocery bag threatening to spill all over the hall. Ace reacted quickly, almost without thinking. He snatched the woman's hand, hooked one crutch under his boot before it could hit the floor and kicked it back into her grasp, all in the meantime of grasping the handles of her bag, a split second later the bag was back in its rightful owner's hand.

"Oh my- Thank you!" She said, parting her red-painted lips into a smile.

"Don't mention it." He tried to smile back, but smiling at strangers wasn't a habit he found himself in. He must of looked like he was passing gas by the way the child giggled and pointed. He felt hot under his collar just then, when a little girl was laughing at his smile.

"Mary honey, get mommy's other crutch please." The mother pointed at the unsaved contraption, and Mary ceased her fit of laughter to retrieve it dutifully.

"I've got it." The teen tried to interject.

"No me!" The child screeched, pulling the crutch out of Ace's reach.

"Mary!" The mother scolded.

"What?" She snapped. Ace chuckled and stuck his hands in his pockets, the heat of embarrassment fading away. It was good to know he wasn't the only sarcastic kid in the world that questioned everything den-mother said.

"I'm so sorry about her- She gets antsy on shopping day." She apologized, adjusting the crutch under her arm.

"No problem."

"You look familiar..." She mused.

"Are you related to the man that lives downstairs?"

"Uh, he's my legal guardian. But uh, we have similar taste I guess."

"No, _Mister_ _Bucky_ is his _daddy_."

"Mary..." She sighed.

"I am so sorry." Why did she feel the need to apologize so much? Killing people didn't take this much apologizing, and it was odd how this little girl called him by that stupid nickname. Seemed like everyone called him Bucky except for he and his sister. Contradicting a child was a lost cause, so Ace went with it.

"No no, I think she's right. We have the same hair and everything." Well, his hair was lighter than Barnes'. Details.

"Tol' you mommy!" Mary squealed triumphantly. Ace shrugged.

"She tol' you mommy." Ace shrugged as he tossed in the lighthearted comment. He hoped the jab went well, as most did in his experience with teasing Vanna. She laughed, but her happiness ended with a sharp wince that led to her dropping the bag.

"Can I help you to your apartment? If you want." Ace offered politely, the way Steve told him to treat a lady. (That was a long story and a long lecture about how tripping your sister wasn't a very chivalrous thing to do)

"Would you? I just need help with my groceries." Ace grasped the handles of the bag in response, hoping it was enough to convince her that he wanted to help out.

"Carry me!" The girl exclaimed, reaching up with her tiny hands and grasping the air. Apparently his convincing went two ways.

"Leave the nice boy alone, sweetie." Again, why? He was completely capable of carrying a child that weighed no ore than twenty pounds. Nothing spectacular or important.

"It's okay." He stooped and grasped her by the waist, then pulled her up to rest on his side. She clutched his jacket tightly, which was familiar as Vanna did it now and again. She was staring up at him with giant brown eyes, contemplating, obviously. Ace tried to ignore her, focus on her mother's steps and make sure the woman didn't hurt herself, but then the child reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair. Not painful at all, but slightly annoying and he would've swatted the hand away if his hands weren't otherwise occupied. The thought of actually using his hands against this innocent made Ace shiver as soon as it crossed his mind. Such a little thing, and it wouldn't be scarring or anything right? Well, this coming from a guy who thought killing was such a little thing...

"Why do you look sad?" She squeaked.

"Huh?"

"You're all sad."

"I was thinking. I do that a lot."

"What about?" She was still carding through his hair.

"My hands. And feet." He answered truthfully.

"Why?" God, she was pulling now, and twisting. He suppressed a grunt as she started wrapping a pink rubber-band around- whatever she had done.

"Because my hands and feet are kinda bad."

"Then tell them not to be bad anymore. Like Bucky did with _his_ shiny hand." Bucky- No, just Barnes, knew this little girl?

"You know about-"

"Mhm." Unbelievable. Incredible really. Everyone knew more about Barnes than he did. And- wait. The change in her tone sent up a tiny red flag. Insinuating that she also knew about- And Ace was now terrified of this tiny child that knew. _Knew too much._ Just by knowing he had 'shiny metal hands and feet' she was in danger. Caused by him. Not again... He only broke his intense stare on the carpet when the woman pulled over to set her bag down next to an apartment door. She turned to face him, and he wanted to vomit. The sweet and thankful smile that he didn't deserve made him want to puke.

"Thank you so much for- Pf- I'm sorry." She was holding back laughter. Actual laughter. Mary giggled too. He looked down on her, trying so desperately and failing to keep his face straight and completely not horror-stricken. He shouldn't be holding this kid with the same hands that had killed so many, and left countless others with shattered lives. He shouldn't be _looking_ at this kid. _Keep it cool, try to go along. Just until you can get back to Barnes._

"What?" He asked, his voice shaky but still under control for the most part.

"I gave him braids mommy!"

"I can see that... Honey are you okay?" No, not okay, definitely not okay. His resolve was shattering.

"I have to get back downstairs, uh, s-sorry for being anywhere near you or your daughter." Ace set the bag and the child down with as much raw tenderness as possible for a murderer.

"Sweetheart, you look like you've seen a ghost!" Ace started to backpedal the hell out of there while he could suppress the heat growing in his muscles. He wanted to hit something, now, and hopefully it wasn't one of these god-awfully good people right now or he'd hate himself forever. He already did hate himself forever, insult to injury. He no longer wanted to look at the tears welling up in Mary's eyes. It hurt too much. Suddenly everything hurt from his head to whatever was left of his legs. So he turned and ran. It was default. Things start going bad you turn tail and report to your superiors for evaluation. No buts about it, get to the soldier for orders. Sometimes relying on default settings can save your life, or the lives around you. Alph- Ace didn't know what else to do. Revert to the default he'd been fighting or hurt someone.

 _"Uchitel'!"_ He called out upon reaching the door. Using the name was foreign on his tongue now after so many years. Didn't matter at all though. He needed to be evaluated- reset- something- or he was going to start a fight with the next thing that moved and that thing was going to lose with it's skull crushed in- _Don't think like a killer, Ace. He's coming._ Barnes was indeed coming, his features stony and emotionless like any other day. He was saying something- Trying to follow along wasn't doing it for Ace, just too scrambled. Shut down. Default. Needed to be reset like a computer...

* * *

"Woah kid." Bucky warned, clasping his right hand on Ace's shoulder.

"альфа актив отчетности для рекалибровки."

"That's not who you are anymore Ace." The boy leaned away from Bucky's touch violently, as if it was burning him.

"Нет, я ... Пожалуйста? Я не хочу никого обижать!"

"Ace, listen to me, I'm not treating you like a machine." Ace shut his eyes tightly and continued the assault on his hair, keeled over as if he was going to vomit. The kid could very well spill his lunch all over the entry way. Bucky himself had done that many an episode, and definitely didn't want Steve to come home to puke on the carpet.

"Barnes just say it- it hurts!" He shouted, a heavy Russian accent lacing his words. And it. The code word, and it was not going to be used.

"I know it hurts, but I'm not saying it." He reached out to the kid again, but he recoiled, hitting the wall behind him and causing him to start. The jolt proved too much for his mind and stomach. Not only did the kid scream, afterward he did indeed wretch.

* * *

Vanna dumped the steaming contents of the soup can into a ceramic bowl, added a spoon, and grinned in satisfaction.

"Not too bad for a first meal." She complimented herself, carrying the steaming dish in to her brother. He was a pitiful sight. Pale and shaking, propped up on the pillows from both his bed and hers. The bedside lamp was the only illumination in the room, the shade making the light a pale yellow tinge that didn't compliment her brother's sickly paleness. As much as it hurt to see, she had no idea what he was _feeling._ Barnes had told earlier that Ace spent the day retching until he had nothing left in his stomach. He'd also complained- well, hinted heavily- that he had a killer headache. No fever though at least just exhausted and a little confused.

"Turns out I can deal with microwaves without making anything explode." She said upon reaching the bedside, holding the soup a bit higher.

"Yippee..." Ace commented hoarsely, reaching for the bowl.

"It's hot." She cautioned before passing it over.

"Metal hands."

"Not your hands... Gee you really are out of it." She watched as he took a few ginger sips of the steaming liquid, smiling when he smiled and hummed his satisfaction.

"Feels good. Tastes good."

"Glad you like it. I'm going to watch a movie or something. Call me when you're done." He nodded. Vanna walked into the kitchen, flipping out the lights before slipping into the living room where Barnes and Steve were already on the couch. The glow of the TV made the atmosphere light and comfortable, which she was grateful for in all of her troubles.

"How is he?" Steve asked, making room at his right side by urging his assassin-buddy further left. She took the empty space but still distanced herself from the large captain and leaning as far into the armrest as she could.

"He likes the soup. What was it called?" Steve only opened his mouth slightly as if to speak before Barnes hopped in.

"Chicken noodle." She smirked. It was funny hearing Barnes say 'noodle'. The simple things that could make her smile now were amazing. She liked how the snow fell outside. She liked the shiny red sports cars that buzzed around the street. She liked it when her former mentor said unusual words. She liked things now, and it was okay to like things. To smile. All of this and she still wouldn't sit close to the people who made it all possible. She was curled up almost painfully into the corner of the couch when there was plenty of space to uncurl her legs just a little bit at least. So she did, and was pleasantly surprised when absolutely nothing happened. Now that she had gotten comfortable, Vanna leisurely fixated on the TV.

 _"No, I am your father."_ Was the first line she caught, followed by quite an ugly scream from a young man with a missing hand. Both of the men reacted to the line quite incredulously, Barnes' eyes widening impossibly and Steve leaning so far forward he might fall off the couch. She could only look at them with a brow raised and her lip quirked. Honestly, she ignored the rest of the movie and concentrated on her hands for no reason, waiting for her brother to finish his dinner. She watched the panels shift and slide as he rotated her wrist. If it didn't have the history that it did, she would've admired the tech, wanted to take it apart even. Alas, this thing had killed, and she needed it to operate properly for the sake of grabbing things so, no taking it apart. After awhile of really just being content, Vanna's thoughts drifted back to her brother, and she realized he hadn't called for her.

"I'm gonna go check on Ace." She said, not wanting nor waiting for a reply to stand up and walk over to the doorway. She peeked in stealthily first, making sure the coast was clear before entering. The young assassin could see him still lying back, but with his eyes closed and the now empty soup bowl on the nightstand. She rolled her eyes and entered fully, crossing the room and scooping up the bowl. Before leaving, Vanna turned the lamp off so that the room was dark. She rinsed the bowl out in the kitchen and set it in the dish washer.

"What now..." She muttered, looking at the microwave clock. It read 11:15, late enough to go to bed. She shrugged, not tired but bored at the same time. She was never tired, just mildly drowsy.

"Night guys." She called.

"Goodnight Vanna." Said Steve.

* * *

"Feeling better?" His sister said from behind, interrupting his intense stare on the kitchen tables' surface. She came into his line of sight while moving to lean forward on the table. He was mildly interested on the reason she was dressed to go out.

"Infinitely." _So. Much. Better._ Ace was coming to find a bowl of soupy pasta and a good night's rest could do wonders for an upset stomach.

"Good. Tin-man is offering a walk in the park down the road."

"Think I'd better pass on civilian interaction Van." He answered with a shake of his head, not quite in the mood for another episode.

"Suit yourself, but just so you know, Steve is in a particularly nostalgic mood. Get ready for Kitty Kallen." Vanna patted him lightly as she made for the door. He didn't care less. He actually liked the old songs Steve played when he was reminiscent. It was energetic, lively, full of the culture Ace never got to witness in his life. His empty, useless life that was good for nothing but death and pain and corruption and...

"You gonna stare at the table all day?"

"Oh, uh, what?" Ace didn't hear the door open or close, hear his sister leave. Hell, he didn't even hear Steve turn on his music (Same song, Kitty Kallen of course). He hadn't been that distracted had he?

"Are you gonna stare at the table all day?" The captain reiterated.

"I'd rather do this than be in public right now." He replied with a tight smile.

"Yesterday was pretty rough."

"Just for me... I feel like there's uh.. A civil war goin' on in my head. Defaults and what I _should_ be thinking fighting for thinking space. Doesn't help when a kid in tugging on your hair."

"I have some experience with that."

"It's PTSD right? When you freak out like I did?"

"Ace, you reacted like anyone would."

"In case you haven't noticed Captain, I'm not just anyone. Not that I'm special or anything, just a little bit more mentally scarred than the next guy."

"Well, like a friend of mine said you can carry it around in a big suitcase or a little man-purse."

"What the hell does _that_ mean? And whats a man-purse?"

* * *

 _They stood facing each other, her stance tight and poised to strike. The counterpart stood still as he was ordered. Waiting for the command._

 _"Go." Says their current handler out of the group assembled. Her muscles convulse, her hands finding purchase on the counterpart's throat. He's flat on the ground now, still, his eyes staring into hers. The exercise goes well swiftly, for she knocks the counterpart unconscious. She is met with little praise but a curt nod from the handler. A disapproving head-shake from the masked soldier standing off to the side, leaning on a training dummy._

 _"They both follow orders well enough. How is the progress on project K-9 ultra?"_

 _"The K-9 project has hit a slight speed bump, Doctor." She'd been dismissed in a subtle way, but dismissed all the same as the handler and others exited the gym talking about things like the K-9 program, which she did not have clearance to listen to. The gym door was closed tight, leaving three alone. Two lucid, one lying on the cold concrete floor._

 _"He'll have a concussion." She stated flatly to the man who was now taking his mask off. He didn't respond, typical of the soldier despite the apparatus keeping him silent being removed._

 _"The counterpart will also have limited functionality for approximately twenty-four hours." Asset Omega scowled deeply as the soldier completely ignored her comment, and went about wrapping his weak hand in multiple layers of gauze._

 _"If the counterpart is neglected now, the period of dysfunction will prolong." She punctuated the last words by gesturing to the male with both hands. Still the soldier payed no mind to her concerns. Somehow she thought he was doing it on purpose._

 _"Sir, I request he be moved to the infirmary. Now." The accentuated, leaving Alpha's side to approach the wall of ice that was the Winter Soldier._

 _"I would do it myself Sir, but the scientists have advised against lifting anything due to my new upgrades." She followed at his heels as he approached a dummy near the far wall of the gym. Still saying nothing, nor alluding to the fact he had even heard her. Heat bubbled in her stomach, rising into her cheeks. She could feel her face growing hotter and before she could stop it..._

 _"Listen to me dammit!" Before moving to land a desirably large blow to his side from her stance behind him. As always however, the soldier suspected as much and caught her fist with his weak hand. With his other, he continued the desired punch exactly where she'd intended. With infinitely more strength. Out of breath with her vision blackening from the shock of pain the erupted in her_ _abdomen, she whined with every attempted exhale. Omega tried to keep her eyes open, struggled even, just long enough to see the handler enter the scene, coming to stand next to the disapproving soldier. He also looked down at her with disdain._

 _"Better to stop it early. I don't care how you do it, get them both to the mental ward before six." The soldier nodded._

"Project K-9..." Vanna said thoughtfully, seemingly out of the blue. Yes, the memory of Barnes hitting her was usually the prime focus of what she remembered about that day, but when the scientists said it in passing... None of it was her problem anymore. None of it whatsoever had anything to do with her current state. Forgetting about it wasn't an option. She hated forgetting, however, it was good not to think on those bleak times let alone try to sort them out. She'd leave the sorting out to anyone other than herself or her brother. _Buzz, buzz, buzz!_ The incremental vibrations that stirred Vanna's concentration obviously came from Barnes' phone. It continued to buzz until the older assassin had brought it up to his cheek.

"Hello?" He started, extending his left arm out in front of the girl's chest, a signal to wait. She watched him carefully, his light expressions giving notice that something was wrong.

"Are you sure?" Barnes' already baritone and gruff voice deepened even more.

"Tell them we're on assignment." Another pause as he listened to the voice on the other end.

"Who's gonna- Yeah, I know, but-" He pursed his lips and sighed, glancing down at his feet.

"Yeah. That'll work." Almost hurriedly, he hung up and slipped the phone into his back pocket.

"What is it?"

"We're going back to New York..."

 **Three hours later.**

 _I'll never smile again..._

She swore her teeth were going to be ground down to the gums if this music didn't stop soon.

"Stop grinding your teeth." Ace hissed, nudging her arm with his.

"I can't help it!" She answered quietly.

"Put up with it, he's in a bad mood already."

"All of us are in a bad mood in case you couldn't tell." I prove her point, Vanna crossed her arms and slumped against the car door, making more noise than absolutely necessary.

"That bad?"

"You bet." Packed and ready for the private airport, the siblings were getting increasingly angry at the world- the girl more so than her brother. Not only this, but an endless torrent of unstoppable memories. She'd let the floodgate open at the park, just to remember that day. Four different events had taken place in the confines of her mind, all about as unpleasant as it got. She dared not review them now, when she was in a car with non-bulletproof glass for windows. More for herself though, more for not letting another memory through.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Everything but my past."

 _"Our_ past."

"Whatever."

 _"Touch me again, and I swear I'm going to shoot you!" She threatened, the barrel of the gun pointed at the center of Alpha's forehead, almost touching. He was smiling stupidly, letting those emotions flow just as Omega was._

 _"I won't."_

 _"I will." She warned._

 _"No. You won't." He was right of course. As agitated as Omega was, she lowered the firearm. They had bigger things to worry about, like the rampage through the compound. The soldier was with no doubt on their tail, or at their head ready to intercept._

 _"Okay, Rumlow and his gang are coming down the hall. We go down the east wing." Alpha continued._

 _"The soldier-"_

 _"So what?"_

 _"It's the soldier!"_

 _"Whatever."_

She came back to the present with a light gasp.

"Breathe Van..." Ace muttered, his eyes half open. She looked his way, noticing all too fast that the place where her seat belt was firmly in place, the patch of skin there was red and indented. No way she'd been asleep _that_ long. _Or even asleep_ for that matter! She quickly turned her attention to the window. A kiosk-looking thing was on the left side of the road, blocking the car's path with a flimsy yellow and black striped bar. Beyond that, the giant airport building.

"Ace."

"Hm?"

"We're here. Unknown personnel inbound."

"And _I'm_ the one that needs to lay off the Hydra thing? Geez, it's just a security guard."

"Since when are you so mellow about strangers? I thought you actively avoided-"

"Steve and I talked." _Of course you did._ Vanna didn't speak her mind, Steve had already pulled up the the security hut and was talking with the yellow-clad man inside. Barnes ignored the man for the most part, clearing his throat whenever the conversation got off-topic.

"Thank you for your service, Captain."

"Appreciate it." The car sped up again, maybe a half of a mile later and it was parked right beside four other identical vehicles. From her window she could see four suited men emerge from each car, sunglasses and all just like the ones on those damn movies Barnes let her watch. Finally (sensibly) Ace regained some of his wariness of unknown personnel, his eyes widening to near gigantic proportions.

"Getting the urge to run?" She asked him, moving closer to the middle of the back seat rather than exit the now open car door.

"Don't you dare." Barnes cautioned, getting out of the car in unison with Steve.

"Come on, Van." Her brother made a motion to go out the opposite door.

"No." She said simply, following him. The suit-drones didn't care, and simply let her follow her brother across the parking lot, into the building and towards security.

* * *

 _"Tsk,_ hate to break it to you but metal detectors are _really not the best option for-"_

"Arms up." One of the male guards (the same ones from the facility) interjected flatly. Ace scowled and took a step back, eyeing the man suspiciously.

"I don't like being touched."

"It's a simple security measure. I assure you that-"

"Assure all you want. You're not giving me a pat down." Ace crossed his arms, a smirk still playing on his lips.

"Sir, you are making this more difficult than it needs to be." The assassin scoffed.

"Yeah, I'm just gonna go right ahead-" He started to walk by, but the agent was persistent, taking hold of his wrist more forcibly than Ace was about to allow. Call it brash, reckless, overkill, whatever, but Ace sucker punched the loser right in his face mask. Three other agents were on him in a second. He kicked and cursed, nothing phasing the four guards subduing him. Once he had calmed (after a fair bit of violent protest) the fifth and final agent approached Ace from the front. This one had her helmet off, had no body armor as a matter of fact.

"Sir." She addressed calmly, as if there weren't an army of cronies that had his arms behind his back.

"Lady." He growled.

"Will you please submit to a pat-down? It's... Either that, or a method that would lessen the danger for my agents and yourself."

"Sedative, huh?"

"If you continue to be difficult. Yes."

"Low lady. Real low..." Ace deliberated his options. Pride, or consciousness. Pretty easy, except Vanna was on edge and a little comfort was far more valuable than his pride- not that he had any. Too many bodies to have much pride.

"...but fine. Pat-down it is."

"Thank you for your cooperation."

"Shut up..." He said, finally free to move his limbs only to spread them wide and allow the first guard With the comically cracked visor) to give him an uncomfortable pat-down. Ace swore he was being extra thorough on purpose. And the new lady watched the entire time. She was cold and calculating, he could tell. She could also get what she wanted. He liked her.

"So, what do I call you?" He asked as he was led out of the room.

"Agent."

"I need a last name." He reasoned.

"Hill. Call me Agent Hill." Now they were finally in the main airport, Steve, Barnes and his sister were waiting patiently by a terminal door.

"Plane ride, brother?"

"As if we had any other option." With that, the gang were down the ramp. The plane was nearly lavish compared to the cargo plane they'd ridden in on the way to D.C. Ace pointed vaguely to the back of the plane, the safest seats. Farthest away from where the six agent drones were sitting. The seats were a creamy leather, soft, almost plush.

"This is too billionaire for my taste." Vanna said as she took the window seat.

"Could be worse." He replied, settling in as well.

"Yeah, you could have taken the window seat. And Steve could have made the pilot put on that god-awful music."

 _"Downer."_ Both chuckled. Ace was happy he could at least still make that happen. Nothing else really mattered at all as long as she was happy, which wasn't smart in a tactical point of view. Tactics were shit now. His life was in the hands of billionaires, super-soldiers, super-assassins, and government-something agencies. Leave the tactics to them and let his damn little sister sleep on his shoulder (the wall is obviously not a good enough pillow compared to a metal shoulder), because they've been through some crap, okay?! Ace's personal mental rage was really getting out of hand. _Nothing cured anything better than a nap._ He leaned back, the headrest too comfortable, accepting the house-arrest fate that awaited two and a half hours away, and closed his eyes.

* * *

 **"GAH!" I scream as my own OCs attack me for bad character moments. "I'm sorry I'm sorry, Civil War's got my brain messed up like the dickens!"**

 **Next chapter (NO PROMISES) will include some meeting and messing with the new Avengers.**

 **Fanart plz? Just a lil' drawin' of Ace and Vanna?**


	7. Chapter 6

"We'll be back." Vanna wasn't sure she'd believed that, watching while the older assassin had been dressed up and sent out just like the old days. Like the old days, but this time she could question it: How were these people any different than Hydra? Using their loyalty to force people to do their bidding at any given moment. They were crueler than Hydra in that sense. Let them have luxuries, freedoms, but they'd better be ready to have it ripped away at the drop of a hat. In this case, the drop of a bomb in France. They teased with the obscure idea that anyone could just do a good deed and atone for their actions. It seemed Barnes wanted to regain some honor. He was going the wrong way. _Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._ The ball she was tossing rebounded from the plane's windshield, hit the floor and was caught once more. Over and over again she threw it, just to hear the _t_ _hunk thunk thunk_ that reverberated off the walls of the hangar.

"Want to go-"

"Ace, if you say exploring I'm throwing this at you." Another toss, delayed intentionally in waiting for his answer. _Thunk, thunk, thunk._

"Fine, but Wilson's gonna find us sooner than later if we stay..." Her brother said as he examined the star on his right hand. Ace seemed at ease, sitting cross-legged on the polished floor, his back against the wheel of one of the larger planes. Looks could be deceiving.

"So why not just go back to our room? It's nice in there." While Ace had a validated point, (besides the being nice part obviously) Vanna preferred this element. Here in a giant space with planes and such. She wasn't hurting anyone by being here, so why not just hang out for a little longer?

"Let's stay. If our babysitter has a problem he can deal with it." The other assassin shrugged as if her reply was entirely reasonable. Both knew it _wasn't_ entirely smart to violate Wilson's direct orders so soon after arrival. To be fair, it had been an extremely boring three hours sitting in a suite. The room they'd been given was huge, attached to the secondary hangar and at least a hundred yards away from the main building. The room was more of a house really, two stories, two bedrooms, two bathrooms and an assassin-proofed kitchen comprised of appliances and cupboards that were key-activated and strictly for use only when a supervisor is present. Irksome was the way everything was bolted down and unusable as a weapon or means of personal protection. Long and short, the house was annoying. Thinking about the whole thing made her toss the rubber-band ball considerably harder against the windshield of the small plane, the sound being less of a comforting _thunk_ became more of a resonating _Clang!_ the made her brother stir from whatever he was thinking about.

"Geez, Van!"

"If _you_ have a problem you can deal with it!" She shouted, absently chucking the toy his direction. He jumped to his feet, evading the blow directly but hit in the backside by the multicolored object's rebound from the jet wheel.

"Y'know, you've got some nerve, not appreciating all of this." He said, poking a finger at her, blatantly assuming he hadn't been the opposing party not three days ago.

"Last time we talked about this it was "do it or prison". Why the change of heart?" She countered, no less than stalking up to her brother, closing the few meters between them.

"Because a little girl, Captain America, and _Bucky Barnes_ said I could be something different. Not a machine. This little inconvenience is a short road compared to what we could do with our lives." Ace still accused her with that annoying finger of his. Completely wrong as he was, she wouldn't launch herself at him just yet, don't prove him wrong _yet,_ because they were machines. Machines that fought like hell and had attitudes to match.

"Ha! Do with our lives? We're assassins. Killers. Born of hate, corruption, and lies. Do you _really think_ we could be any less than another lackey, another _asset_ like your Captain America and Barnes? We have skills. Lots of 'em. People like these need our skills for whatever pointless cause they're pursuing, and they'll do anything to keep it within their reach." She finished, her tone menacing as she leaned in close enough to feel his defeated sigh on her cheeks.

"I'm going back to the room. Stay here and wallow in your debbie-downer mood..." He turned to walk away. Vanna wasn't having that, just letting him saunter away from these problems. She'd re-reach him to hit it on the head, without a doubt.

"I'm not done talking!" She yelled after him. He stopped, didn't turn.

"Then say what you want to say." She could see his fists balling up, his shoulders tensing. For a split second, just a split, she thought about fighting him. Or rather _not_ fighting him. No. This would be one for the books. He'd remember and feel this for _days._ Red crept up into her vision, along the edges like a scope, zeroing in on the prey that was about to be taught a _valuable_ lesson.

* * *

Ace started walking away, saddened immeasurably by his sister's negative outlook on life. She shouted out to him, voice laden with a threat. He'd known she wanted a fight, he was sure she wouldn't initiate one however. No matter how differing their opinions had been Ace knew she wouldn't intentionally start a physical conflict. Three, four, five, steps away and Ace is fighting the tears stinging his eyes, clenching his jaw painfully against the down turning of his lips.

"Then say what you want to say." He manages to reply, his fists tightening in frustration rather than anger, shoulders tensing in a dry half-sob. He gets no reply at first. Relief, then horror as a sharp, calculated blow came down upon his spine.

"Ugh!" He cried as the wind was yanked from his shock-ridden body. The assassin in him responded promptly, rolling instead of falling out of the way, then sprinting without a second glance backward toward the door of the hangar- the nearest available exit. Ace didn't so much as look over his shoulder, numb. Eyes streaming, spine near cracking with every step and lungs still craving air, the young man silently hoped that it wasn't really Vanna, that someone had gotten in... Tried to do away with him. His life had come to this, running from his sister, the one who'd been his whole world up until recently. All because of a notion that he didn't have to fight.

 _"Then just tell them not to be bad anymore. Like Bucky did with his shiny hand!"_ Yeah, Mary, that little kid knew he didn't have to fight, to be bad. So close he was, reaching for the door- An attack from the side halted everything, send his metal feet grinding on the concrete. He didn't fall. Would _not_ allow himself to fall victim to this misplaced rage, _her_ misplaced rage.

"What'cha gonna do about _that_ huh? _Brother?_ Let me push you around like you let everyone else?" She lowered her shoulders like a predator, stalking closer still, a devilish smirk on her usually passive face.

"Vanna, enough." He breathed with a slight shake of his head, matching each of her silent steps with backwards ones of his own. The gears in his mind were creaking it seemed. Until they stopped working altogether. Seeing her face like this was enough to rust the cogwheels and spontaneously weave cobwebs into the inner workings of his mind. Ace's back groaned in protest, his chest heaved causing the most recent site of injury to spasm.

"Stop whining. Be the machine you are and _fight me!"_ The shout was supposed to stir his anger, but it did just the opposite. His frontal and only thought was 'run'. That option was closing fast as Vanna's steps lengthened, her speed increased. She would attack again, frontally this time and with maximum force. Again, frontal thoughts that came from nowhere pushed through his panicked body and urged him to wait for the blow. The more prominent of his thoughts said, _ordered,_ that he keep his feet moving. He would listen to the rebellion just this once, and wait for her strike. When she struck out towards his face, he ducked with such swiftness and spun so that he faced her back, instantly throwing up his arms to block another punch. With a jump-rope like effect he nimbly evaded the sweep meant for his knees, still guarding his face from the barrage that was being constantly rained. First response maneuver, an instinctual three steps to the side, over and over with perfect and practiced movements he'd directed the skirmish back to the door. not without it's casualties however. Many blows hit their mark, most to the stomach and legs which were screaming in pain. Ace was aware of blood dribbling down his chin from either the cut in his lip or...

"Fight me dammit!" His counterpart growled after a nasty sweeping high-kick that just nearly made contact with Ace's already battered torso. He was too tired, too hurt both mentally and physically to say anything. Another high-kick to the side of his head not only made things incredibly fuzzy but also seemed to stir some sanity back into his already horribly burned mixture of a fight. In his moment of good sense, Ace could finally fall to the side, pushing the door wide open with him. He fell to his stomach, causing him to spit a mouthful of blood onto the light concrete.

"Oh no you don't. You'll learn- you'll learn all over again that you can't get away. _Never."_ Never... Never would Ace ever dream of his sister becoming the face of Hydra, what he was running from. Here it was though, repeatedly kneeing the air from his gut when he put up no more resistance. Somehow he was drifting away, whatever he was drifting away into was soft and welcoming. He embraced it, the soft darkness.

-...-

"Get- move over- don't lean on that! I swear you agents are the plague of the earth... If I hadn't taken that oath- Now look at what you've done!" The erratic shouting of a very disgruntled woman came through like a very painful rendition of the Doppler Effect. It hurt Ace's ears... Awareness hurt everything else. Before he could stop it, a groan escaped his lips as most of today's events decided to hit him like a bag of cinder-blocks.

"And you woke him up!" 'Up' was an overstatement. Ace couldn't see as a matter of fact. He was calm about the issue though, there was some sort of cotton pressure wrapping the circumference of his head. Nice as it was, he'd rather be able to see the damage Vanna had done- what he'd let her do.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" He asked as politely as possible, keeping to what he thought might be appropriate in this situation. He was going to maybe raise a hand, get her attention a secondary way, but his hands wouldn't move. Either strapped own or switched off didn't matter much as long as needles didn't have anything to do with anything.

"See? A master Hydra assassin has better manners than all of you." He turned his head in the direction of her voice and approaching footsteps, plastering a toothless smile her way for good measure.

"I prefer my name Ma'am, but yeah. Agents suck." He stirred a light chuckle from the woman, who he sensed was at the bedside now.

"They told me you were dangerous, not nearly so polite."

"Well I've been taking lessons from the master of manners himself for awhile." The assassin replied. Any mention of the restraints was better addressed later. Ace would ask appropriate questions, at the right times. Maybe ask politely to have the blindfold removed. For now the lady was doing something with the wound in his right side.

"Well since you're so fond of pleasantries I guess I'll have to introduce myself. I'm Doctor Margret Darcy." If Ace's eyes could widen they would. Owlishly. Margret, _Maggie_ Darcy. Could be a coincidence. _Had_ to be. If it hurt to ask then he could spare the expense. He'd deserve it. Part of atoning for your actions meant facing the music no matter how awkward it might be at first, and he had to start somewhere.

"Maggie Darcy, age six. Daughter of George and Valorie Darcy. Sister to Samuel Darcy, age eight. December fifth at fourteen-hundred hours, George Darcy-"

"He jumped." She interjected, her voice completely flat.

"That's not true. I watched, while you and your brother watched your father being _thrown_ from a thirteen story building in Manhattan."

"No, the figure in my hallucinations was due to traumatic stress." Her hands left, more footsteps faded out then in. She was at his other side now, close to the machine that was constantly making beeping noises. Ace couldn't help but feel a knot in his stomach.

"You've denied it all of your life, haven't you?"

"There's nothing to deny."

"You convinced yourself that an assassin- that _I_ didn't break into your house with my sister that night so you could feel better about lying to your brother. I know how it is." No more conversation was to be had after that. The woman preoccupied herself with shouting at agents, calibrating medical equipment, and actively ignoring the assassin on her medical bed.

* * *

 _Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._ Vanna's forehead collided lightly with the wall of her cell, her face expressionless as the repeated motion cleared more and more anger from her hazy thoughts. What would Barnes think? Steve? She inhaled then exhaled deeply, swallowed, _Thunk..._ This time her head rested on the cold silver panel for a moment.

"Ace why the hell didn't you fight back?" The girl whispered, her thoughts finding a grip in wherever Ace might be right now. _Probably being treated like a king. Like a martyr. Should've made my point more clear, just wanted him to stop being weak._ Vanna snarled at her own mind's betrayal.

"Stop it." She scolded her own thoughts, banishing them to the dark part of her mind that'd hurt Ace. All of those thoughts had turned into words in one explosive moment and Vanna sorely regretted it. She'd always regret what she'd said, but she could prevent another incident. How, she had yet to figure out. Vanna was good at figuring things out, that was on her side at the very least.

"Miss Vanna?"

"Go _away_ Wilson." She ground her head further into the wall and let her arms hang limp.

"I'm only here to help, Miss Vanna." As sincere as the agent sounded most things were hard to believe these days, especially when they concerned perception. Still, Wilson was useful for one certain purpose at the moment.

"Fine, wanna help? How's my brother?"

"He's under constant medical supervision."

"Injuries?"

"I have the medical report right here if you want to take a look." She didn't know what harm it could do other than the eminent guilt-trip. She sighed for maybe the twentieth time within the hour and pushed off of the wall, scanning the room for Wilson. He wasn't there. Probably behind the two-way mirror. With no one to talk to but her own reflection, she settled and simply talked to herself while speaking to the man behind it.

"Are you uh- bringing your army in here? Hello?" She tapped on the reflective surface with the back of her index finger.

"Actually-" The giant hidden door on the opposite side of the room hissed, Wilson entering with a manila folder in tow.

"I thought I'd give it to you personally." The balding man stepped closer, extending the file at a respectable distance. The door was still open, which made Vanna unsteady. The amount of trust here was suspicious. She took the file but didn't open it.

"I left the door open because there are six men in the waiting room." Wilson smiled warmly and clasped his hands behinds his back.

"That seems appropriate." She responded, tucking the folder under her arms as she crossed them.

"You seem completely calm Miss Vanna."

"I know Ace is alive. That's enough to keep me calm."

"What do you remember about the trigger of your attack?" Unexpectedly quick, the conversation turned into more of an interrogation than one of Wilson's 'help sessions'. What triggered it? Well, many reasons but since she had just about the lowest hand in this game Vanna would answer directly.

"I wanted him to stop being weak. Stop letting himself get pushed around."

"So, for his own good?" _Son of a bitch._

"In some twisted Hydra-idealistic kinda way, yeah." She ground the last word trough her teeth for punctuation.

"Hydra-idealistic? Do you think Hydra's ideals are your own?" Wilson asked, still calm and smiling.

"No. They're bastards. All of them. They rely on fear, pain, the unwillingness of _kids_ to achieve what they want. We don't think like that anymore."

"Meaning you and Ace." She only nodded.

"I see. Well Miss Vanna I think I can let you go."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch. I've pieced together the conditions of each attack, and know what to look for in prevention of another one. Please follow me."

* * *

 **Somewhere in France...**

The cold stings Bucky's lungs with every gulp of air. He's running out of time and rooftop for this chase to continue any longer. Unfortunately, he's the one being chased, and while he's no stranger to jumping off of considerably heightened buildings this really wasn't ideal.

"Sam!" He shouted into his earpiece, picking up his pace impossibly.

"Just jump Barnes, I got'cha!" There was wind on the other end as well as Sam's shout, the engines of his friend's wings coming from somewhere below the edge, three yards now and getting closer.

"Steve?" He asked, confirmation for himself more than lack of trust in the Falcon.

"Go on Buck!" A pained grunt followed, but now Bucky was going off the edge and otherwise consumed with the feeling of falling to worry. Bucky reached up and was promptly caught albeit a shaky grip. The assassin brought it upon himself to not let go as he was brought back down into the deserted street.

"Robot dogs." Sam commented, out of breath, as he landed. A far off cry- not so much a howl for it was sonar technology rallying the cyborg animals.

"I'm gonna need backup... They're all here. I'm hidden, but not for long." Steve said through the line.

"What's your location Cap?"

"I d- I don't know. Somewhere by the extraction point."

"Barnes, you still got the GPS?"

"No."

"Well what the hell happened to it?" Bucky pulled the device out of his pocket, showing off the large chunk missing from one of the corners.

"Doesn't matter. Steve, how many are there?"

"I count two dozen. We need to call in backup, Buck." Another howl echoed through the street, followed by one set of scraping claws on pavement.

"You do that." He answered, listening closer for the direction of the dog. Left, sprinting into Sam's blindside.

"Sam!" His partner turned, just in time to be attacked from behind. Sam's wings caught most of the blow, but not all the black and white dog gnashed wildly as Sam went down. Bucky acted quickly and kicked the mutt's muzzle hard enough to shift the attack onto himself. The animal lunged for his chest, which the assassin blocked with his left arm. Bucky flung it out to the side, maybe to throw it off far enough away to get a clear shot, but it held fast. The machine brought its back legs up and furiously scratched at his chest with unbelievable flexibility for a dog.

"Barnes get out of the way!" Sam was aiming at the dog, his shot obstructed by Bucky's own struggling.

"Bucky what's going on?" Steve hissed through his earpiece. Bucky didn't respond, instead using whatever strength he had left in his metal arm to fling it out sideways.

 _BANG!_

The dog yelped as it dropped into the street. Sam still had his gun pointed at the animal, and with a groan Bucky noticed that it was still alive.

"Dammit Sam."

"Hey, I just saved your life." The dog started whimpering at his feet. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Dammit..." Bucky muttered again, dropping to a crouch, hands on his knees as he examined the now mangled and bloody parts of both animal and machine.

"What?" His friend asked, the barrel still pointed down.

"You were supposed to kill it, Sam." He was tempted to reach out to the suffering animal, attempt to stop the blood staining its white fur. It was too late. Sam had done his damage and they were in the middle of the Europe.

"Well get outta the way and let me." Bucky couldn't kill the dog no matter how practical it was. Most everything told him to just end it. After all, the animal had tried to kill him as it was programmed to, would still be trying to if it wasn't wounded, dying. It was in pain, an easy excuse for just killing one of dozens. _Programmed to kill for Hydra just like me._ Fine, he related to the mutt, but the Winter Soldier? The Winter Soldier should just move and let someone else take care of it. The Soldier was good at that...

"We're not gonna kill it Sam."

"What?" Bucky- the one who seemed to win the night over- thought quickly, a tactical reason for keeping it alive, all while convincing himself of his own conjured possibilities.

"These things are programmed with data that could be useful. This one had singular orders. See the red band here?" Bucky pointed to the pinstripe running over the creature's shoulder.

"Yeah."

"It's different than the others. They have blue."

"So it's a commander?"

"A scout. The others are coming soon. We have to get it rewired, and none of it's going to matter if we don't keep this one alive." Actually, there was a perfect idea right there. Bucky looked up at Sam. He put his weapon away and sighed.

"Try to get it somewhere safe then. I'll get Cap." Bucky nodded, shielding his eyes as the Falcon took off towards the giant iron tower looming in the distance. Another shrill, mechanical whine emitted from the black and white dog.

"Okay fido, where are you hurt?" For precaution, Bucky gently clasped his left hand over the animal's muzzle, his right hand carding through the bloodiest site on the animal's fur just below the center of the spine. As expected, the dog growled and squirmed when Bucky brushed the bullet wound. The assassin knew nothing of dog anatomy, so he chopped it up to pain and blood loss that had incapacitated the dog and not a major injury. He moved his hand to the dog's other side to feel for an exit wound. Indeed there was one. Nodding, Bucky let the animal's muzzle go. Just as he predicted, the pain and blood loss were the only issue and both were easily fixed. The assassin stood swiftly and crossed the street to where a cloth tarp had been draped over a pair of bikes. He pulled it away and immediately set about tearing it to strips. Once he was back to the dog's side he'd torn three bandages from the tarp and a backpack-like sling.

Fixing the bandages and loading the animal into into the sling was easy, as it was too weak to fight back now. In this abandoned part of town finding an empty apartment was also easy since most of it had been evacuated after the bombing. The place he chose was in the center of a nice brick building with no windows and one way in that was visible from almost everywhere besides the bathroom. All in all it was an all-in-one-room house. The nicely made spring mattress was where he decided the dog would go once it was clean. _Remember, this is all for tact. Stop looking at it like that and get the damn water, Barnes._ For then he untied his sling and gently lowered it onto the floor. His gaze lingered on the animal for only a second longer than appropriate.

"Towels." He muttered, moving to the bathroom to look for towels and water. Maybe find some unemotional common sense along the way. Bucky located a stash of what he was looking for in a cabinet below the sink and took four. He set the stack, save one, on the tarp beside the still sleeping (still breathing) dog, then into the kitchen he went with his towel to test the taps. Only cold water, but that was fine, so he soaked it and moved on with his task, trying so hard not to cringe at the animal that quite frankly looked like robotic roadkill.

"Dammit all to hell and back, who cares?" Bucky grumbled, giving in for god knows why and stroking the dog's head before removing the bandages and wiping clean the its fur. Luckily for himself and the mutt the bleeding had stopped completely thanks to his crude handiwork. Unluckily for him, the animal was showing signs of awareness. Emotional as he was, Bucky wasn't stupid. He took another strip of cloth and tied a knot around its snout before picking it up in his arms and putting it on the bed. Next, he fashioned a knotted leash using the remaining strips of his tarp, tied one end to the metal bed frame and the other loosely around the dog's neck. Good enough for now.

"Steve? Sam?" He asked his earpiece.

"Sorry Barnes. Just me." _Shit. Stark. Stark as backup._

"Where's my team?" Bucky growled. There was a long silence.

"You're not the only one who's pissed. I'm at the door." _How? I didn't hear you..._

"Then come in." He said aloud, immediately on edge when Tony (angry Russian curse) Stark showed up to be tech support. Without his suit. He had a case with him, just as technologically advanced as his tower.

"Cap said you have one of the dogs." Bucky pointed with his exposed left hand to the bed where it lay, its eyes half open now.

"I need it to follow my orders."

"You know, I'm already sick of you _Sergeant,_ so don't tell me what to do." The billionaire snapped. Bucky held back a relatively phallic curse and watched as the technician worked. On _his_ new dog, Bucky decided mentally.

* * *

Ace was sleeping peacefully, his even breathing was lulling and wonderful. The monitor displaying his heartbeat counteracted that with every second she lay at the bedside. The insistent beeping noise it made was near infuriating. Near. She had a tight lid and padlock on it this time, thanks to the sight before her. Ace ended up like this way too much. Hurt, because of his shit life experiences and weak because of his growing conviction that he could be better. Vanna would never accept that. Ever. Never would she doubt the assassin she was nor her past and skills. She wasn't better, couldn't be, but she wasn't going to start anymore fights over this. She wouldn't even speak of it. Vanna sighed as tender footsteps clacked into the room.

"Miss Vanna?" She glanced at whoever it was without really making eye contact, avoiding setting her eyes for anywhere more than a few moments.

"I've been asked to tell you that Captain Rogers has returned, and that Sergeant Barnes-" He cleared his throat awkwardly, as her interest drove her to make eye contact.

"Has a present for you and your brother. His words. Not mine." She didn't care who's words they were. She nodded indifferently. The man walked out of the room, and no later did Barnes enter... A black and white Project K-9 unit at his heels.

 _"Give the command, Omega." Handler ordered, reiterating what the head scientist had to say, pointing to the unit that waited for its master's word._

 _"Stealth. Fetch." She said, boldly, as she was instructed to. The unit did not hesitate in leaving, its nose to the ground. Many weapons were hidden in the gym, all of differing deadliness. The unit's mission was to retrieve the most compatible weapon for a stealth mission, and stopped at every hiding spot, stopping just short of grabbing anything until finally pinpointing the location of a combat knife. It took time digging through a pile of blue floor mats, but returned at a swift trot to drop the weapon at Omega's feet._

 _"As you can see," The scientist explained to the gathered group of officials._

 _"My K-9 units are fully operational and take orders better than any agent. Unlike your assets, my units are incapable of speech and their loyalty isn't restricted by the drastic measures of brainwashing." Omega looked away from the scientist, passively and submissively staring at her feet instead._

 _"How well do they partake in combat?"_

 _"Like a pack of wolves, sir." She didn't know of wolves. Maybe The Wolf she knew of, a secret battle tank in the lowermost parts of the compound. If these animal units fought like The Wolf then she was not impassively angry about them._

 _"Asset?"_

 _"Yes, Sir?" She looked up to look into the man's eyes like any good asset would do._

 _"What are your thoughts on the K-9 units?" The thought hard about her words._

 _"Though it is not position to say, they are useful. Proficient."_

 _"I know, but what is your opinion." She froze._

 _"I-it's not my position to express opinion, Sir."_

 _"Good. Now, you see this Doctor?" He gestured lightly to Omega._

 _"This is an asset that knows its place. Your dogs are as unpredictable as any wolf as far as I know."_

 _"Sir, I assure you everything is controlled to the T."_

 _"Prove it then. Asset?"_

 _"Yes, sir?"_

 _"You've imprinted on this unit, correct?"_

 _"Yes, Sir."_

 _"It will do as you tell it?"_

 _"Yes, Sir."_

 _"I want it in the field tomorrow. Do you understand?"_

 _"Yes, Sir."_

 _"Asset, do you think well of this unit?"_

 _"It is proficient."_

 _"Do you think it will attempt escape?" She glanced at the unit, then to the Hydra head._

 _"Yes, sir. It is more than probable than another will occur."_

 _"Oh? Please explain." The Hydra head was scowling over her shoulder, likely at Handler._

 _"Many attempts have been orchestrated by the K-9 units, sir. The probability of another attempt is eighty-three percent approximately."_

 _"Why have I not heard of this, Doctor?"_

 _"I would never, sir! The asset is lying!" Attention was turned to Omega like a thousand-pound weight had descended upon her shoulders._

 _"Asset Omega is this true?" A beating would result from this. No matter what she said next, it would not end well. The dam had burst, and lying was against programming._

 _"No, sir. Lying goes against protocol and programming. There is video evidence contrary to Doctor Grover's claims if you wish to see."_

 _"Bring it to me." He told one of his soldiers._

 _"Doctor Grover, your research is to be obliterated if what my asset claims is correct." She looked at the scientist, who nodded, then shot daggers at her from behind his glasses._

 _"Sir, that is completely unnecessary! My units-"_

 _"Sir, we found the footage." The soldier produced a flat device and handed it to the Hydra head. Time stood still as he watched the moving images, his expression darkening into something horrible._

 _"Asset."_

 _"Yes, sir?" She asked carefully._

 _"Order it to kill him."_

* * *

 **So, things take a turn for the something in this longer-than usual chapter. Ace got beat up again. Now, I'm going to make a promise that it won't happen again, Vanna's going to make sure of it. Enjoy, comments are appreciated!**


End file.
